


Impeaching Modesty

by Wiggins



Series: Experimenting With New Ingredients: OC-centric Potterverse Stories [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Black Family (Harry Potter), Culture Shock, F/M, Godfather Sirius Black, Harry Potter was Raised by Sirius Black, Magical Bond, Original Character-centric, Pureblood Culture, Self-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, This is more of an original character than a self-insert.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-12-24 00:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiggins/pseuds/Wiggins
Summary: The first time I heard the word ‘Hogwarts’ and it actually registered, I was fifteen, halfway through my second apprenticeship, and I sat down very hard. For almost a full hour. Then I ‘ported to my mother’s place. She took one look at me and steered me to sit down in the kitchen, shoving my head between my knees till she could get me a compress and a mug of sweet tea.“What did you Remember?” she asked.I made vague groaning noises and tilted my head up enough to gulp some tea. Where to begin? “I remembered a book,” I said haltingly. “In the book. There was a school. The school was called ‘Hogwarts’ and they taught magic. It was an adventure series, centered on a boy and his friends. I loved the books. Devoured them. I had forgotten.”“Why are you so upset about Remembering this?”I pulled the compress from my face. “Mom,Hogwarts is a real school here.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The run-up to Sept. 1st was kind of a shit week for me. Every time I sat down to write, my brain blew a raspberry at me. I gave my fingers free reign and they spat this out. I will continue it if there's interest.

Here’s the thing: I didn’t actually realize that I’d reincarnated into a _fictional universe_ until I was fifteen.

I knew from the get-go that I had reincarnated. Memories of my past life came to me in drips and drabs as I grew. The memories were there, but I couldn’t really make head or tail of them until my mind developed the tools to deal. I sat my mother down and explained everything to her via trifold presentation when I was 10 years old. That probably says a lot about me. My mother believed me by the time I’d finished going over the first section of the triptych. That probably says a lot about _her_. I lucked out in that I was born to a capital ‘h’ _Hippie_.

Here’s her story, as I knew it: Elizabet Gruzinsky left behind everything she was and had to join the Good Faith Fellowship, a loose organization of musicians, hitchhikers, truth-seekers, and spiritualists, when she was fifteen. From what I gathered over the years, who she was and what she had didn’t amount to much worth missing. She renamed herself Serenity Sky and soaked up as much knowledge as she could from anyone who would stop a moment to try and teach her. Her skills were, by the time I came along, eclectic: she could fix just about any basic appliance and vehicle, play three instruments at a decent level and two at near-professional. She spoke a smattering of four or five languages and had first-hand accounts of the practice of as many religions, most of which she attempted to follow as best she could long enough to get a ‘feel’ for them.

She tried out all the labels that the Fellowship had to offer, but only truth-seeker seemed to fit in the end. Maybe that’s why she didn’t stay.

She was with the Fellowship when she met my sperm donor. They didn’t have a whirlwind romance so much as a mutual understanding. It ended when I showed up on the horizon and she decided that she wanted to set down roots in order to help me grow. He fell under both the ‘musician’ and ‘hitchhiker’ headings, from what I can recall of him. I barely remember him. I refer to him ‘sperm donor’ and not dad because he wasn’t my father in any way that mattered, and that was okay. Sperm Donor came through town, visiting our little house every now and again until I was about five, then he disappeared. Whether he was dead or just gone, we never found out. I know mom missed him, but his absence didn’t really impact me. My dad in my last life was fantastic, my mom in this life was stellar, and between them I felt sufficiently parented.

Remembering my past life was weird. It really did come to me in piecemeal bits. Once I’d explained myself sufficiently and she got used to the idea, my mom adjusted to the new order very quickly. She got in the habit of asking me every day: “How was school? Did you Remember anything interesting?”

See? _Stellar_.

The weirdest thing about it was that the world I remembered didn’t quite match up with this one. History class was a drag and a half because I kept getting dates and people mixed up, it got me all twisted up and anxious every time I had to take a test. I focused the entire third section of my trifold presentation on the differences, especially the whole soulmate thing.

My old world hadn’t had soulmates, my new one did. Of course, not everybody had them. The census in America put it at something like one person in ten. People started getting marks as early as seventeen and the rule seemed to be this: you got your mark only once the soulmate was _also_ at least seventeen. People who got their marks right away knew that their ‘mate were probably older than them. Some lucky sons of guns got more than one mark.

I figured at first that it was the whole ‘soulmate’ thing that most differentiated my old world from my new, that it must have been the key factor in changing the way that history ran. The world seemed kinder in some ways than my old one, less charged with unreasoning hate. On the flipside, there were all sorts of weird venerations of soulmate lineages: people who had soulmates and could prove that the marks had ‘bred true’ for generations. The stigma against choosing to have a relationship with someone who wasn’t your ‘mate was very real. It was, in its own way, a new kind of prejudice. Mom and I were both impacted, on account of the fact that my dad was real obviously not around and my mom didn’t see the point in lying about the fact that he wasn’t her destined mate. I didn’t think it was quite as bad as all the crap I remembered from my old world, but most people didn’t have the basis for comparison that I did.

Mom had a mark, a twisting fern that scrolled down her left knee until its fronds wrapped around her ankle. Oblique marks like hers were commonly referred to in our community as ‘found marks,’ and it was assumed that on the other end would be a person with a ‘seek mark,’ that, presumably, was a bit clearer. It seemed like usually one person would have a name and the other some sort of symbol. Sometimes both people had names or both people had symbols, but that was significantly less common.

I made a study of the whole thing when I was nine because it was _fascinating_. If I’d stayed in the regular school system, I probably would have tried to break into the hard sciences to _keep_ studying it, gender bias be damned. It didn’t work out like that because it turned out that my new world had something else going for it, something I wouldn’t have known about except I’d been born smack-dab in the middle of it.

Magic was real, and I had the talent.

Now, I suppose I could have started to suspect then, if I was wired for suspicion. I wasn’t, though. It’s not as if I had anything else to draw on that could have lead me to that conclusion. Magic alone wasn’t enough to make me think: “Ah, yes, I have been reborn in a universe I vaguely recall from books I read as a child.” Magic happened in lots of books I read, in the before place and in my new world. There was no reason to suspect. On top of that, the magic I encountered and learned was completely different from what the books had described.

The United States’ system of magic was based around four schools that offered basic instruction as well as apprenticeships. The four schools were located in the vicinity of Seattle, Santa Fe, Salem, and Sault Ste. Marie. Each had roughly the same set-up with core classes you could take and specializations for the upper years that were supposed to fill in the blanks around the expected apprenticeships. The magical world in America had been largely divorced from the mundane since nearly a century before the first ‘settlers’ had arrived from the old world. The indigenous wizards had needed to protect their communities and had done so quite effectively. Plague had been the impetus for the divide. What it meant was that there were massive swathes of America that had been slipped sideways, hidden, or otherwise obscured from mundane access.

Magical history was infinitely easier for me to understand and keep track of than mundane.

But I focused on America.

That was my downfall.

The first time I heard the word ‘Hogwarts’ and it actually registered, I was fifteen, halfway through my second apprenticeship, and I sat down _very_ hard. For almost a full hour. Then I ‘ported to my mother’s place. She took one look at me and steered me to sit down in the kitchen, shoving my head between my knees till she could get me a compress and a mug of sweet tea.

“What did you Remember?” she asked.

I made vague groaning noises then tilted my head up enough to gulp some tea. _Where to begin?_ “I remembered a book,” I said haltingly. “In the book. There was a school. The school was called ‘Hogwarts’ and they taught magic. It was an adventure series, centered on a boy and his friends. I loved the books. Devoured them. I had forgotten.”

“Why are you so upset about Remembering this?”

I pulled the compress from my face. “Mom, _Hogwarts is a real school here_.”

Her eyes went wide as that sunk in.

I stood, pulling the compress from my face, and began to pace. “But there were no soulmates in the books. But then again the author wasn’t the best about including anything not directly impacting the story? But soulmates probably would have warranted a mention. But-“

She grabbed my hand and yanked me down to sit again. “Talk it through,” she instructed me. “What does it mean if the books are real?”

“I know the future? No, I don’t. No more than I know America’s future. I know things that might happen. Vague things. I – it’s been so long since I read them. I remember things. They might help? But it’s different.”

“You don’t know _the_ future, you know _a_ future,” she said, rubbing a hand back and forth over my shoulders. We’d gone through this before during the _first_ talk about reincarnation, after I’d finished the second part of the trifold. It had been entirely focused on the fact that in my _past_ life I’d been born in the year 2000 and died at twenty, whereas in _this_ life I’d been born in the year 1965 and was really hoping to see at least thirty.

“I know things that might happen, but I don’t remember exactly when.”

“You are not responsible for the fate of the world, baby girl.”

“But if I know things, and do nothing…”

She fixed me with a compelling look, dark eyes equal parts affectionate and serious. “You are _fifteen years old_.”

“Technically-“

“In mind and body, you’re _fifteen_. The most mature fifteen year old to grace this Earth, but you’re fifteen right now. You were ten once, you were five, you were a toddler, you were an infant. You’ve got the memories of a grown woman, but you’re not grown, and you _know it_. You’re borrowing trouble and responsibility that was never yours to begin with.” She pulled me out of my chair and into her lap, even though she had to tuck my legs to make me fit.

“I’m too big for this,” I said. It didn’t stop me from ducking my head down to rest on her shoulder.

“You’re never too grown for hugs,” she said firmly.

Her words didn’t stop me from being equal parts anxious and curious. What I remembered of the history of my old world wasn’t accurate here. Soulmates and magic had changed things. What I vaguely recalled about the books probably wasn’t entirely correct either, soulmates would definitely have an impact on the development of the magical world, of this I was certain. Whether that impact would prevent the rise of Voldemort, I didn’t know.

Grindelwald had still been an issue, he showed up in American wizarding history books, inextricably linked with WW2 and the drastic expansion of the areas wizards set aside to be protected from the mundanes. I lived a childhood under the threat of nuclear war, with a community determined to prevent a nuclear apocalypse or – if it became inevitable – ensure that magic would allow us all to survive it. Grindelwald was to the wizarding world what Hitler was to the mundane. Both men had been born, lived, caused untold carnage, and died in both worlds. They were fixed points.

Was Voldemort?

I saved up my allowance and bought a subscription to the largest British wizarding paper, The Daily Prophet, and started reading.

I was so naïve. It never occurred to me that Voldemort might have infiltrated the paper.

Like with many events, we only really learned what happened afterwards, from the victors.

POTTERS SLAIN screamed the headline the day after my sixteenth birthday. I was shocked to see it, there’d been little to no reporting on the fighting. I’d been learning more about the state of wizarding Britain from America’s talk radio than from the paper. The byline was, somehow, even more shocking: TRAITOR REVEALED, it said, just over a picture of a sharp-faced man identified as Peter Pettigrew.

“It’s _different_ ,” I explained to my mother, who was watching me with concern writ large across her face.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“They still died, though.”

“But the true traitor was revealed, you said that the traitor got away in the books.”

“Yeah, but,” I stared down at the paper, tracing my finger over another picture further down: a dark-haired man was twisting, keeping his back mostly to the camera and shielding a bundle in his arms. SIRIUS BLACK TAKES CUSTODY OF HIS GODCHILD, THE BOY-WHO-LIVED. “If that’s changed, what _else_ has changed?” I asked.

Even though it felt sometimes like I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, I was able to put it out of my mind for a year, during which I finished up my second apprenticeship. I planned to graduate from the Seattle Academy of Magic as a certified ward magus with a runic specialization. My final year would be spent preparing my masterwork: a portable ward array designed to guard its wearer against all manner of ill intent. Home is where the heart is, after all, and after dying young once I intended to preserve my hide as long as possible in this new, arguably more dangerous life.

Of course, my seventeenth birthday changed everything. On November 1st, 1982, I woke up to find three words scrawled on my previously unblemished skin. My soulmate’s full name, written in his hand: Sirius Orion Black.

There was a loud _thunk_ sound as I flailed out of bed.

I supposed then that I could consider that other shoe to be well and truly dropped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a boatload of world building.

November 4th, 1986

The Leaky Cauldron was dark and dingy looking on the outside, not particularly inviting to any who might see it. I wasn’t sure if this was deliberate or not, but the Leaky was the most easily accessible transition point between mundane – Muggle – and magical London, which meant that in spite of the uninviting exterior, I was going to go inside.

Correction: I was going to go inside _as soon as I worked up the courage_.

I had a plan for how my stay in London would begin. I had been working on The Plan since I’d discovered my soulmate was Sirius Orion Black. The plan had started out rather simple, but grown in complexity over time as I realized that additional factors needed to be taken into account. The Plan was now more or less a Scheme, rich with detail and dimension.

It started with me entering the Leaky.

“One, two, three…go,” I murmured to myself, taking a step on ‘go.’ I crossed the street, opened the door and stepped through. It took me a moment for my eyes and ears to adjust: outside was pale November daylight, inside the Leaky was lit with candles and witch lights. The noise of the street had been cut off entirely as soon as the door shut behind me; it was almost eerie how abrupt the auditory transition had been. Inside there was the soft murmur of many conversations being held: clumps of people scattered throughout the dining area.

I ignored them and headed straight for the bar.

The bartender offered me a small smile as I came closer. “Hullo miss, can I be of service?”

“Yes, please. I’m looking to let a room. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying, though.”

“An American!” he said, looking me over. “Don’t get many visitors from your part of the world.”

Considering Europe’s tendency to sprout megalomaniacal Dark Lords like springtime sprouts daisies, that wasn’t terribly shocking. I smiled at him rather than responding to his implicit question.

“Well, now, we’ve got a nice room for young ladies. Includes breakfast and dinner, but for luncheon you’re on your own. Comes to six Galleons a day, but I can take it down to 35 total if you pay for the week.”

I did some quick mental conversion between Dragots and Galleons, then nodded. “That sounds lovely, Mister…?”

“Tom, miss, just Tom,” he said. “And you are?”

“Athena Sky, but please call me ‘Nina.’”

“Well met, Miss Nina,” he said, nodding agreeably. He ducked down and pulled out a rather large leather-bound book, cracking it open to somewhere in the middle before sliding it towards me. A moment later he was handing me a quill. “I’ll just need you to sign the ledger.”

The ledger had a series of charms on it. I blinked twice, then reached out and prodded it with my magic. I recognized the basic assortment of guest right agreements, most of which came down to common courtesy. Sensing nothing unusual in the magic, I reached for the quill, and then paused. “Ah, I will need to go exchange money before I can pay, unless you accept Dragots?”

“’Fraid not, Miss Nina. Gringotts ought to let you exchange, though.”

“Would you like me to sign now, or after I exchange?”

“Sign now and I can hold the room for you, I’m sure you’re good for it,” he said amiably.

“Thank you.” I signed my name and rolled my right shoulder as I felt the gentle geas adhere to my magic. “Could you direct me to Gringotts?”

He pointed to a sturdy, ornate door to the left of the bar: “Straight through there and down the Alley, you can’t miss it.”

I thanked him and headed out. It was strange to be back outside with the same light I’d seen in mundane London but none of the _sounds_. I felt like I was in a bubble of silence and I didn’t much like it. There was a short walkway and then a brick arch, and as soon as I stepped through the arch sound rushed back in. The Alley was bustling with people and part of me wanted to gawk like a tourist. I’d been told that Europe was different, but seeing it was a trip.

The clothing, the products, and the _people_ – I shook my head and set off down the Alley. Tom was quite right: Gringotts was impossible to miss. It was a massive white marble building dominating what looked like at least a city block. The bounds of the building were so saturated with magic that I couldn’t look at it for too long. The pillars almost seemed to ripple in the air and the walls did not appear to have been constructed with Euclidean geometries in mind.

I kept my gaze focused straight ahead as I walked down the Alley, taking pains not to bump into anyone or make eye contact. I needed to get to Gringotts. The sooner I discussed business with the British Enclave, the safer I would be. Though there was a temptingly tricky bit of spellwork embedded in a plaque on the wall beside the entrance, I bypassed it in favor of entering the building. The inside was massive, but much easier on my eyes. Goblin Tellers lined the room lengthwise and a Goblin Overseer’s desk dominated the wall opposite the door I’d entered. Dozens of other doors lined the walls behind the Tellers and the Overseer. To either side of the main entrance were large fireplaces: the ones on my right were constantly spitting out wixen, the ones on my left were taking them in.

My breaths were slow and even as I walked to the shortest Teller line and waited for my turn. The chit in my coat pocket had warmed the instant I entered the building. I brushed my fingers over it, but did not take it out until it was my turn with the Teller.

“Deep trenches and bright-lit caves to you,” I said, dipping my head respectfully.

The Teller paused, peering at me over rimless spectacles. “May I help you?”

Technically not the proper response but perhaps my words were purely an American colloquialism? “I wish to exchange currency and,” I slipped the chit I’d earned from the Oregon Goblin Enclave onto the Teller’s desk, “discuss contracts.”

My words may have made him pause, the chit made him have an actual facial expression. He raised a single eyebrow at it, and then placed one finger on the chit. It glowed a rich purple hue. The second eyebrow rose to join its twin.

He looked at me again and only experience kept me from fidgeting under his scrutiny.

“Still waters and sweet air to you,” he said slowly. “You will follow.” So saying, he shut his ledger and climbed down from his desk, heading towards one of the many doors that lined the wall behind him.

He was _fast_ , enough so that I had to take long strides to keep up. I’m not sure how Goblins manage to move so quickly without ever appearing to rush, but this wasn’t the first time I’d had to break out a speed walk in order not to lose someone half my height. The door he led me through was simple wood; the room beyond held an equally simple chair and a desk. He pointed towards the chair: “You will wait here.”

The chair had no magic on it that I could sense. I sat. The desk, on the other hand, was positively _saturated_ with enchantments. I could sense that much just sitting near it, and though it was tempting to prod further I concentrated on drawing as much of my magic into my body as I could in an effort to be polite. The desk was none of my business and poking at it with my magic in an effort to divine the enchantments on it would be about as rude as actually rifling through the drawers.

Besides, I had a lot to think about while I waited. Entering Gringotts was the second step of my Plan/Scheme. The chit I had earned from the Oregon Enclave indicated that the holder might receive one boon of their choosing, contract-related.

It gave me the right to ask for a favor, but it didn’t necessarily follow that I’d get what I asked for.

The door behind the desk opened a moment later. The Teller was the first through the door and – I boggled momentarily before I could stifle the expression – a _Manager_ followed after. The Manager sat in the chair behind the desk, the Teller at his left elbow. He took his time settling his ledger before him along with an array of quills and inkpots. Once he was finished, he held out his hand to the Teller.

The Teller immediately produced my chit and passed it over.

In the Manager’s hands, it glowed that rich purple again. He sniffed and placed it between his ledger and the row of inkpots where it continued to glow for a moment before fading slowly back to the soft rose gold color it had been while in my keeping. The Manager did not speak until a few moments after the light had disappeared: “This is not a Gringotts chit.”

Though it was not technically a question, I dipped my head in agreement.

“What contracts do you require that could not be handled by those whose favor you earned?”

“The Goblins of the Oregon Enclave have keen eyes and sharp tongues,” I said carefully, “but they do not offer the services I would request.”

“And what do you request of us, witch?”

“I desire the patronage of a Goblin Advocate for the negotiation of a Soul Binding.”

The Manager did not react, but the Teller’s ears pricked up. “To whom are you bound?” the Manager asked.

I tilted my head. “I am not yet tied, nor will I allow myself to be bound without a Contract. My Advocate must be fierce and cunning, able to spill blood with tongue as well as sword. They must revel in the fight and the challenge.”

“What challenge would your bonded’s Advocate offer? There are few worth our time,” the Manager said dismissively.

“I am sorry to hear you disparage your own."

This time both of their ears pricked. Goblins did not traditionally allot Advocates to individual people. Goblins assigned Advocates to family _lines_. Specifically: lines with a certain amount of prestige, and gold, attached. “To whom are you bound?” the Manager asked again.

“If you do not take this challenge, may I ask that my chit be returned?”

“To whom are you bound?” the Manager asked for a third and final time.

“I am the soulmate of Lord Black, Duke of Eildon.”

“Ah,” sighed the Manager, sitting forward. “You would pit Gringotts Goblin against Gringotts Goblin?”

I spread my hands, “Who better?”

He smiled. “Your request-“

My breath caught in my chest.

“-is accepted. Come back tomorrow to meet your Advocate.”

The rush of relief was so sharp it was actually painful.

I'd done it.

I would have an Advocate.

_Now the hard part really begins..._


	3. Chapter 3

November 5th, 1986

My Advocate was taller and a good sight toothier than I’d expected. Her smile was as sharp as her teeth when she offered me greeting: “You will tell me what you want. You will not lie, you will not dissemble, you will not evade. You will tell me what bargain you wish to drive with your wizard, or I will return your chit, scorched and voided.” She raised one brow at me expectantly, the quill in her hand poised over her Ledger as she waited for my response.

I stared at her and suddenly felt woefully unprepared for this meeting. I swallowed and thought rapidly, but ultimately my fear over what she might do if I lied outweighed my concern that she would think my wants to be too small to be worth her time. “I want my freedom, if it comes to it,” I told her, hands clenching around my purse where it sat in my lap.

“Freedom?” she asked, not making a move to write.

“Freedom,” I confirmed. “My parents are not magical-“

“Ah,” she said, and though her black eyes did not leave mine, she set quill to page and began to write. “Your caution does you credit. You know the laws of the land and have prepared to face them.” She produced the chit, _my_ chit, and held it tightly for a moment. Purple light spilled from between her fingers but even as I watched it shifted slowly to a soft silver color. “You may call me Biteshade, I will be your Advocate. Now, to work.”

The next few hours were spent pouring over laws recent and ancient, determining what language would be needed to ensure my freedom should the worst come to pass. My idea of ‘the worst’ and Biteshade’s idea of ‘the worst’ were slightly different and included somewhat contradictory ideas of necessary preparation. Ultimately, I bowed to her superior knowledge of contracts and of the ins and outs of the negotiation process.

“Ask for as much as possible to begin from a position of bargaining power and then ensure that what I actually do want and need survives intact, I assume?” I asked an hour in, already losing my formality under the stress.

“Essentially,” she agreed.

I nodded at that, satisfied. “How long do you expect this to take?”

“It will depend on how badly Lord Black desires his soulmate.”

Her words, delivered matter-of-factly, sent a shiver of foreboding down my spine. 

* * *

 

November 7th, 1986

I could not wait for the Internet to be invented and become ubiquitous. Partially because I missed having all of that lovely information at my fingertips but mostly because I longed for the ease of communication offered by email and IM and the like. In the meantime, I was limited to phones for the most part and as such had to travel to the Mundane half of London if I wanted contact with my mother. There were a few places capable of sustaining international phone calls within cab distance of the Leaky, but it would be an expensive habit in both time and money.

“Sky residence, Serenity speaking-”

“Mom!”

“Sweetheart, how are you? How’s London? _Fill me in_.”

“I’m here, I’m safe, I’ve rented a room and I’ve met with the right people. Negotiations are supposed to start today, I think. They sent out the preparatory missives yesterday and… I’ve gotten the impression that this kind of thing is dealt with as quickly as possible.”

She sucked in a breath. “So fast?  You've only been there three days!”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing a little weakly. “By this time next week it should be over.” By this time next week I should be neck-deep in the life of a Peer of Magical London, someone I had known as a fictional character one lifetime and a world away. It boggled the mind on a _good_ day. I hadn’t had a good day so far this week.

“...over, just like that, one way or another,” my mother murmured.

“I guess so.”

There was a brief silence between us, then – “I wish you’d let me come with you,” she fretted.

“Mom, we talked about this-“

“I know, but still. I’m going to meet him at some point!”

“Yeah, but not until I’m sure he’s…safe.”

“If he’s not safe for _me_ -“

“He won’t be safe for me _either_ , I know. How’s Heather?”

“Worried about you, like me, like Todd. They’ve both been checking in with me every day since you left. I think they expected you to call a little sooner,” she said, rebuke implicit. “In fact, Todd will probably be by in another fifteen minutes or so, if you can talk for that long.”

“I can’t,” I said quickly. “I’ll call again in another day or so, once I’ve had an update on how the negotiations are going. I have to be careful though, you know that.”

“Heather filled me in a little more once you left, yes. It just sounds so… medieval!”

“Got it in one, mom. It is positively medieval,” I agreed, sighing.

“How are you holding up?”

I took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out between my teeth, thinking about how to answer that question. This time I was weighing my honesty against my mother’s right to worry over her only child.

“That well, huh?”

“I don’t really have a basis for comparison,” I said, shrugging even though she couldn’t see it. “Meeting my soulmate? Never done that before. Trying to negotiate a contract that negates a boatload of scary and draconian laws that make our legal system look like a walk in the park? That's _also_ terrifyingly new to me. On top of that I’m in a foreign country where I don’t know anyone and I’m preparing to meet people that are the movers and shakers of the land _and_ -“

“Breathe, honey. _Breathe_.”

“It’s going, mom. I think that’s all I can ask, at this point.”

“You don’t have to do this, Athena. You can just come home.”

“He’s my _soulmate_ , mom. I may not understand it, but it _means_ something. I owe it to myself to figure out _what_ , exactly.”

“Owe it to yourself, not to him?”

I winced. “Mom-“

“You owe this man _nothing_. You are _your own person_ ,” she said fiercely.

“I know! I know, and that’s why I’m doing it this way. Hoping for the best-“

“And preparing for the worst, that’s my girl.”

“Always.”

It was her turn to sigh. “All right. I trust you, and I suppose I even trust this cockamamie plan you’ve cooked up with your friends. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, mom.”

“Call me again. _Soon_.”

“I will. Tell Todd and Heather ‘hello’ from me.”

“I will. Be safe, honey.”

“Of course! Bye, mom.”

“Bye, baby.”

* * *

There was an owl waiting for me in my room when I returned to the Leaky. The note it carried had more magic than I would have expected. I didn’t touch it until I could figure out why, but knowing didn’t relieve my concerns. There was a Portkey in the letter. The letter itself was not the Portkey, but there was one there. I was careful as I took the letter from the owl and opened it, making sure not to touch anything but the paper.

_He has requested a meeting. The Portkey will take you directly to my office on activation. It may be activated with the phrase is ‘Deep waters lie still.’ We should discuss additional terms before responding._

It was 3:42PM and I hadn’t had any kind of lunch yet. I grabbed a pen and scratched out a hurried: _Will come at 4:30PM if acceptable_ , on the back of the letter and passed it to the owl, slipping the Portkey into my pocket. The owl would find me again regardless of where I was, so I slipped down to the dining area to grab a bite in the meantime.

Tom had only just dropped a pot of tea at my table when the owl found me again. _Acceptable_ , was all that Biteshade had written.

I smiled at the note and stuffed it into my pocket along with the Portkey. “If you wait a moment I can probably get you some bacon,” I told the owl.

It tilted its head, obviously considering my offer for a moment before bobbing an approximation of a nod and hopping to perch on the back of the empty chair opposite my own. The owl’s weight made the chair tip for a moment before I instinctively reached out with my own magic and forced it to settle again.

If going to the common area of the Leaky to eat in the midst of contract negotiations was my first mistake, using my magic wandlessly, wordlessly, and without thought to who else might be nearby was my second.

I _felt_ him notice me.

I did not feel him through my normal senses, rather, my magic reacted to his and _his_ had reacted to the presence of my own. I had seen magical soulmates meet before, not often, but three times prior to today. I had only opened myself to _watch_ what happened once, before I had been informed how terribly rude such an action was. To me, then, it had looked like two great webs growing from each of the pair of them and spinning, binding them together as their magic meshed and entangled till I could not tell one from the other.

Being in the middle of it was vastly different from watching it happen.

I jolted from my seat and spun to face a table in the back corner of the room where a man was standing, staring at me. There were others seated at his table, also now rising to their feet, but I couldn’t make myself focus on them. _He_ captured all of my attention. I made out dark hair and bright eyes before the feel of thousands of silk-fine, mithril-strong threads of magic positively _leaping_ from him to me galvanized me into action. The threads were not barbed, they did not hook onto me or my magic, it was not painful or invasive, it was soothing and warm and lovely and so _ungodly tempting_ that I was stumbling forward, towards him, even as I shoved my hand into my pocket and grasped the Portkey.

There was _something else_ mixed in with what I recognized as his magic, reaching for me.  Something older, deeper, _hungrier_...

“Deep waters lie still,” I gasped, and then, suddenly, I was at the center of a tug-of war, the Portkey versus my magic-his magic- _our magic_ and that Something Else all fighting to bind us together. It hurt, a wrenching, tearing pain – I screamed as brilliant colors overtook my vision. The sound died in my throat as I fell to the floor of Biteshade’s office, gasping and crying as my magic sunk back into me with a snap.

There was a clawed hand at my elbow, pulling me to my feet and shoving me into a chair. Biteshade held me there until I could support myself, then pushed a glass of water into my hand. I was too busy putting myself back together, and that felt far less metaphorical than I liked, to ponder over her solicitousness.

“You will stay here until negotiations have concluded,” she said, and it was very obviously not a request. “Gringotts offers you Sanctuary.”

I could hear the capital letter, but I didn’t fully grasp the meaning. “I accept,” I said, and only after saying it did I realize that accepting meant no more jaunts to Mundane London. I wouldn’t be able to ask Heather what I’d just done unless I could figure out Magical London’s international contact options.

Biteshade grinned at me. “Welcome to Gringotts. Now, let us discuss those terms.”

* * *

Apparently, Lord Black had taken a more active role in the negotiations than I had, up to that point. It wasn’t against custom, per se, but it was unusual. Biteshade was quite pleased with her progress and my accidental encounter would, apparently, only be an aid to her.

“Proof,” she said. “He cannot doubt who you are to him. He knows now.”

“It was in doubt?” I asked. “People fake this?” It was hard to believe.

“They may _try_ ,” she said, baring her teeth.

“Was that one of your concerns prior to taking me on?”

Biteshade flicked her fingers dismissively, claws clicking as they caught on each other. “Liars worry only about what they might get, you feared for what you might _lose_. Under my Advocacy, you will lose _nothing_. This will impact negotiations. We will discuss additional terms after I have discovered exactly how soft Lord Black is prepared to be, now.”

“How long will that take?”

As if on cue, a Goblin entered Biteshade’s office through the side door. I could not determine his position on sight, and did not expect to be introduced. He entered the room only far enough to close the door behind him before telling Biteshade: “Your opponents sit at the table, awaiting your words.”

“Not long,” Biteshade said, lips curling with satisfaction. “This is Greenlick, he will show you to the Sanctuary.”

Greenlick visibly startled at her words. His black eyes flickered from her to me and then back again, and his ears stood nearly straight up.

“You don’t want me at the table?” I asked, in spite of myself. I did not actually _want_ to go to the table. I hadn’t even come close to regaining my equilibrium.

“No, the distraction will not help, but…” her eyes narrowed as she thought. “Follow,” she said, standing and striding towards another door. She waved at me and at Greenlick, and the both of us hastened after her.

She led us through several halls and anterooms until we reached an ornate hallway lined with doors so saturated with runic magic that I reflexively shielded my eyes with my hand.

“Through that door you will find the negotiations,” Biteshade said, pointing to the door to our right. “Through that door,” she pointed to the one to its left, “you will find the Lord Black’s chosen companions.”

“You think I should-“

“Your abrupt departure will have rattled him, I expect to receive many concessions,” she said. “If you speak with his companions, he will receive their reassurance that you are well. A good negotiator knows how to give to receive.”

I eyed the second door with some trepidation. I felt I could make an educated guess as to the identity of one of the so-called ‘companions,’ and I vaguely recalled seeing other people with _him_ in the Leaky but I didn’t actually know what I might find behind that door.

“Greenlick will accompany you and show you to the Sanctuary whenever you wish.”

I nodded slowly and Greenlick stepped past me to slide his finger down the door, magic passing from him to the runes until the door cracked open with a soft _click_. The Goblin entered the room and, with a sigh more resigned than excited, I followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internet cookies to anyone who can guess the identities of Lord Black's companions (Goblinspeak for "friends"). I'll give you a hint: one of them is dead by this point in canon!HP, but remains alive in this AU.
> 
> Internet cheesecake to anyone who can guess what that Something Else was.
> 
> Yes, there are a lot of undercurrents in the interactions here. Athena is in over her head in more ways than one.


	4. Chapter 4

The instant I crossed the threshold I felt that _Something Else_ from earlier reaching out to me. It startled me enough that I stumbled forwards, yelping in surprise as the magic unceremoniously yanked me closer to two of the three men in the room. One of them stepped forward and caught me by the arms to keep me from falling flat on my face. Unfortunately, that _Something Else_ , and I had strong suspicions as to what it was, grew immeasurably stronger the instant he made contact. I had a scant moment to wonder at how much worse it might have been if our bare skin had touched before I was completely swamped.

Divorced from the soulmate magic, the _Something Else_ didn’t feel like binding strings, it felt tacky, cool, and oddly creamy – like ice cream melting on my skin. It spread from the point of contact, the stranger’s hands on my arms, and it positively _leapt_ from him and one of the other men to me until I felt like I was drowning in the sensation. It didn’t feel sentient, per se, but the more it saturated the air around me, the more it _settled_ , the more I started to get a feel for it.

It was possessive and protective and strangely _prideful_.

It wanted me, quite badly.

 _Truly, madly, deeply_ , I thought with rising hysteria.

Now that it had wrapped itself about me, the corona of magic so thick that I was sure it must be visible to the mundane eye, it began to attempt to reach _into_ me… and that was where it ran into difficulty. Without my soulmate’s magic to guide it under, over, and through, it couldn’t breach my personal wards. The anklets I never took off flared with heat under my socks. The ring on my littlest finger, the earring in my left ear, and one of my necklaces quickly followed as the _Something Else_ threw itself wholeheartedly into a siege on my person.

Without Lord Black, it hadn’t a hope of getting at my magic or my soul.

The very air around me heated with the intensity of the magic being brought to bear, and I was peripherally aware of the hands on my arms tightening and moving as I was guided into a chair. I focused on a sense-memory of Lord Black’s magic reaching for mine, of the way it had started to twine and blend before I had ripped myself away. I took that moment in time and very carefully slipped it out to the _Something Else_ along with the most miniscule amount of my magic that I could deliver without compromising my defenses.

It latched onto the memory and the magic like a starving thing, absorbing the whole. A moment later, the magic around me condensed for the slightest fraction of a second, feeling somewhat disconcertingly like a full-body caress, before it began to slip away. In its retreat, I felt another echo of possession, protection, and near-incandescent pride along with an impression of such abject _want_ that I felt a cold sweat break out on my skin.

The moment that the last of that _Something Else_ released me – with a lingering, tender stroke along my senses – I tore my arms away from the stranger and pressed back against the chair he’d put me in, trying desperately to catch my breath.

Greenlick was at my left elbow. As soon as he saw me regain myself he gave me a short nod and then drifted back into position against one of the walls. He wouldn’t interfere unless directly asked, and even then I couldn’t be sure of how much help he might be – or how much it would cost me.

“How did you do that?” one of the men demanded.

I took a moment to look at each of them, trying to figure out if they were people I recognized from the books. Of the three, two were obviously related to each other and, if my guess about the origins of that _Something Else_ were accurate, probably Lord Black too. Those two had dark hair, dark eyes, and a certain similarity to the fineness of their features that would have marked them as related even if I’d lacked any magical evidence to support that supposition. Aside from that, they were as different as day and night. The third was a little shorter than the others, with dark blond hair and eyes that managed to combine green and amber in a manner oddly feline.

The younger of the two dark-haired men had been the speaker, the elder had been the one to steer me into my current seat. The three were now arrayed in a slight semi-circle in front of where I sat. Though they were a few feet away, it was difficult not to feel surrounded and outnumbered, even with Greenlick there to supervise.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I demurred.

The blond and the younger of the dark-haired duo raised their brows at that.

The oldest of the trio hadn’t reacted. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of me, to be honest. He had dark golden-brown skin, black eyes and hair, save for his temples, which were almost tinsel in color. “You have no Family Magics of your own,” he said once he saw he had my attention. He tilted his head to one side, studying me. “Muggleborn, or disowned?”

“Are those my only two options?”

“Muggleborn, then,” he said, smiling.

“Will that be a problem?” I asked, fighting to keep my tone neutral and not combative.

Judging by the way his smile widened, I would guess I didn’t succeed.

“You’re frightened,” the blond said baldly. “Why?”

It was a whole new struggle to keep the first three answers to that question, all varying degrees of sarcastic, locked behind my teeth. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I said as blandly as possible, pasting a polite smile on my face that was probably at least two-thirds grimace.

“Remus,” the elder Black – he had to be a Black – said, his tone too close to amused to succeed at pretending to be chastising. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of me. “I apologize for my rudeness, I am Alphard Black, your soulmate’s uncle. This,” he indicated the younger dark-haired man, “is Regulus Black, your soulmate’s brother, and this is-“

“Remus Lupin, Sirius’s best friend,” the blond interrupted.

“Athena Sky,” I said, then paused over what to call the man whose name decorated my skin. I didn’t know him outside of the pages of a book I’d read a world and a lifetime ago, but it felt strange to call him by a title out loud, to his family and friend, especially considering what we were to each other. In the end, I ended up frowning and shrugging: “I’m the soulmate.”

The younger two members of the trio exchanged glances at that, but it was Alphard who actually said something. “You do not appear to be pleased be that,” he said slowly.

 _Understatement_. “It’s nothing personal,” I assured them, then paused, considering. “It’s _mostly_ not personal,” I amended.

“’Mostly?’” Alphard asked, eyebrows raised. “What on earth could we have done to offend you?” He didn’t sound even remotely taken aback by my words, merely curious. I got the impression that he didn’t take offense easily. He seemed more like the type who was used to dishing it out, subtly, of course.

“Your family is an old and noble one, if my understanding of how your governing structure is accurate, then you help make the laws. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“Your laws are _bullshit_ ,” I said.

Regulus coughed and Remus took a half step back at my vehemence.

“’Bullshit’, my lady?” Alphard inquired.

“I’m not a ‘lady’ by _any_ of your pureblood standards and I refuse to be bound to your family or my soulmate until my safety and freedom is assured,” I said firmly, standing. I took a deep breath to try and ratchet back some of my tumultuous thoughts and emotions. Coming in here had been a mistake. I had been in no fit state to talk with anyone even before I entered, and after my experiences with what could only be the Black Family Magics, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a bed with a hot, preferably alcoholic, beverage and a good book.

Of course, even my implicit refusal was enough to wake the Black Family Magics from their restless slumber. I could feel it as they reached out to me again, trying to keep me close and bind me even closer.  It seemed like that was the sum total of the Magic’s aims and ambitions: keeping me.

“ _No_ ,” I snarled at it, thoroughly done with the day. I glared at the two Blacks. “Keep your magic to yourselves.” So saying, I turned to go, flinching when a hand wrapped around my wrist. I was surprised, when I turned my head, to see that it was Remus keeping me in place.

“What are you so scared of?” he asked me, his eyes searching mine.

“No matter how shiny, a cage is still a cage,” I said, tugging my wrist out of his grasp. “Good day, gentlemen,” I said to the room at large. “It has been… _interesting_ , meeting you. Greenlick?”

The Goblin gave me a short nod and then preceded me from the room. The moment I crossed the threshold I felt the protections snap into place, cutting off the Black Magics and making me sigh in relief.

“Sanctuary is this way, Mistress,” Greenlick said, walking slowly enough that I could tell it was a courtesy he was offering.

“Thank you.” After the day I had had, ‘Sanctuary’ sounded like _exactly_ what I needed.

* * *

The moment the door shut behind Athena Sky, Regulus sank onto the couch behind him. A moment after that, he started laughing and it took him a good five minutes to stop. When he surfaced from his reverie, Alphard was watching him with amused indulgence. Remus, however, was still staring at the door, a frown on his face.

“I don’t see what’s so amusing,” the werewolf said tightly.

Regulus shot him an incredulous look. “You don’t? Truly?”

“No,” he said, turning back towards the younger man. “Enlighten me.”

“Sirius’s soulmate is a swotty American Muggleborn who dislikes his titles, privileges, and, potentially, the entire _aristocracy_ almost as much as he does, and the Family Magics are _salivating_ over her.” He shook his head and snorted: “Mother must be absolutely _spinning_ in her grave, Mordred keep her.”

Remus cracked a smile. “Put like that…” He sighed, “Aren’t you worried she might reject his contract and suit?”

“She will have no reason to,” Alphard said. “With what we know now, the concessions her Advocate has requested begin to make sense. Once we inform him of the particulars of this meeting, Sirius will give her everything she has asked for, and likely more than she ever dreamed of. Sirius, more than anyone will understand and empathize with a desire for freedom. If hers is assured, I have no doubt she will soon be his.” He smiled, “The boy can be quite charming when he wants to be, after all, and with incentive like _that_ , I am sure he will pull out all the stops, as they say.”

Remus snorted, sinking onto the chair the future Lady Black had vacated. Both Blacks politely ignored the way his eyes shifted more towards the amber spectrum as he accessed his werewolf abilities to impress her scent into his memory. “She really does seem tailor-made for him,” Remus said, almost wistfully.

“And for the House of Black,” Alphard agreed. “Their courtship is bound to be one for the history books.”

“Merlin help us all,” Regulus muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on their guesses last chapter, multatuli and Karearea get Internet Cookies and multatuli also gets a helping of Internet Cheesecake! I hope that guessing accurately as at least as satisfying as the chapter I've posted.


	5. Chapter 5

The Sanctuary turned out to be nothing like Notre Dame and everything like Helm’s Deep. If Helm’s Deep had been continuously updated with all of the modern accouterments of comfort available in a magic-based society. It was part fortress, part mansion, and the only thing keeping me from comparing it to my dim memories of Erebor from the Hobbit films I’d seen in my previous life was the discomfiting notion that it would be a little _too_ apt. The analogy held less metaphor and a good deal more reality than I was entirely comfortable with, especially considering I wasn’t sure who the dragon was in this scenario.

Though, based on the Black Family Magic's reaction to me, I was pretty sure _I_ was the Arkenstone.

It was not the most comfortable of realizations.

Greenlick led me to a well-furnished apartment roughly the size of a well-to-do country farmhouse, assured me that a Goblin representative would fetch me my things from the Leaky, and left me to it. In this case, ‘it’ was collapsing onto the nearest flat surface and mulling over the phrase ‘discretion is the better part of valor.’

I felt neither discrete nor valorous.

For the first, I was quite certain that Lord Black’s representatives, particularly his uncle, had learned far more about me in that encounter than I had about them. For the second, I had practically _fled_ their presence.  Even if I was still debating the merits of giving them the time of day, let alone joining their _terrifying_ family, I still wanted to make a good showing. My vanity – my _pride_ – would allow nothing less. Biteshade had said that sometimes you had to give to receive, but I was certain I’d given loads more than she could net me in her negotiations.

If that meeting was a skirmish, I had not come out the winner.

For a moment I wished that my friends had joined me. Heather’s advice would have, at the very least, given me direction. Todd’s optimistic outlook could make even the most poorly handled situation seem like a funny footnote in a much bigger story. Unfortunately, Heather was nearing the end of her final masterwork presentation, not to mention that the number of permissions and red tape untangling required for Todd to even _consider_ leaving the continent made jaunts to merry old England prohibitively difficult to plan. They’d helped me as best they could, helped me turn my plans into a Scheme, now it was up to me to implement it and do them proud.

“Remember,” Heather had told me, expression grim as she waited with me for the call to board the boat to Britain. “It’s not paranoia if they _really are_ -“

“-out to get you,” Todd and I had finished with her.

He had rolled his eyes at her, like always. “Not paranoia, just an unhealthy degree of pessimism.”

I missed them _so much_.

* * *

The next morning, after the single bubbliest House Elf I’d ever met had delivered breakfast to me, I met with Biteshade in the parlor of my borrowed Sanctuary. She was smiling, showing off far more teeth than seemed anatomically possible, and she held a sheaf of papers in addition to her Ledger.

She passed the papers to me and commenced setting up her Ledger and inks.

The papers turned out to be a Contract, specifically, a Black Family Contract. The magic embedded in the paper and ink reached for me with sticky-cool fingers as soon as the contract touched my flesh. I ignored the metaphysical groping and focused on the words on the page. Three different shades of ink were represented on the pages and I barely had time to make an inquisitive noise before Biteshade explained.

“Purple for the basic standard Black Family Contract, my notes are in green and the Black Advocate’s in silver.”

It only took a few minutes perusal to tell me that the standard Black Family Contract was every bit as terrifying as Heather had predicted. It was, in some respects, actually _worse_. The very thought of being _bound_ like this had me swallowing hard to keep my recent meal where it was supposed to be. I shut my eyes and took a few deep breaths, shoving the Black magics as far away from me as possible in a brief fit of rebellion. It offered me enough distance that I could open my eyes. After a few more deep breaths, I continued reading the details of the horrific future I had narrowly escaped.

The green slashes and notes that accompanied all of the truly _scary_ clauses and sub clauses had the bulk of my focus. Biteshade had followed all of my wishes to the letter _and_ the full extent of the spirit. She’d highlighted and torn apart everything I might have even considered objecting to – sections on personal autonomy, visitation rights, marital obligations, marital _assumptions_ , and a whole ghastly host of rules and regulations that could have easily been used to make my life a living hell.

I was on the second page, still marveling over the ruthlessness of the old Families, before I started really paying attention to the silver writing of Lord Black’s Advocate. There was, surprisingly, very little to be found. I backtracked to the beginning and started looking for _just_ the silver. Skimming, I made it through the entire contract in less than ten minutes. My second read-through took slightly more time as I focused on the astonishingly few alterations and counteroffers that had been proposed.

“I… I don’t think I understand.”

Biteshade raised an eyebrow.

“I apologize for my lack of clarity,” I said, resettling in my seat so that both of my feet were flat on the floor and my hands rested on my knees. I needed the grounding. “I understand, but I just can’t _believe_ … he’s just… he’s saying yes? To _everything_?”

“With the exception of three provisions, yes.”

“I saw them, but your notes switch to a shorthand I can’t read.”

“I will give you the official language before you will be asked to sign anything, but they can be summed up quite easily. Will you permit me this?”  She waited for me to nod, then continued: “The first provision requires that you dwell in the same residence as Lord Black for a period of no less than three years. The second, that you entertain no other suitors for the same length of time. The third,” here Biteshade outright _smirked_ , “gifts you a portion of funds and property regardless of the outcome of the first two.”

It took effort, but I shoved my feelings – and I was having a lot of them, all at once – aside and tried to focus on the most relevant questions. “How is ‘residence’ defined? Is it just a house, or property, or does it specify that we share rooms and beds as well? Are there penalties or a restriction on overnight stays elsewhere? What about visits elsewhere?  Or visitors?  Is Lord Black held to the same standard that he is requesting of me? How does he define ‘suitors?’ He wants to give me money? I never asked for money! If we take out the money bits, can we shorten the length of time?” By the end of my spiel I was talking more to myself than Biteshade, thinking about what the next three years might bring.

The Goblin watched me the whole while, still showing teeth. After I trailed off into mutterings, she cleared her throat to draw my attention. “Nothing has been signed. We have not left the table. What do you wish?”

“I don’t want to be forced to live with him, I don’t want to be under any obligation to accept or even entertain his suit, and I _certainly_ don’t want his money!”

Biteshade nodded, clearly expecting this. “These are the things _Lord Black_ wants. The others he has given up without a fight, but this-“ she tapped her quill to her Ledger. “This is where we _negotiate_. Which of these three would make you walk away from the table?”

I sat back, thinking hard. What was an absolute deal breaker? I didn’t want, or need, his money but… taking it would make me uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like I was under any sort of obligation to keep it. Worst came to worst, I could donate it. Setting up scholarships for mundane students with Black Family monies would be hilarious. I didn’t much like the stipulation about courting, but I could understand it. Wix lived a long time, and three years was nothing, really. The thing that honestly, truthfully, made me most uncomfortable was the idea of being required to live somewhere not of my choosing. That was a level of autonomy I was not prepared to lose without a fight.

“Space,” I said after a moment. “Space and time are the things that would make me walk. Three years is too much time, for one thing. More importantly, I don’t want to have to live under his roof.  That gives him too much power,” I said frankly. “I don’t care about the money, but I’d rather not take it. I can handle some time commitment, but three years is too much. The residence…” I shook my head. “No, there’s no way I’ll agree to being required to live with him for _three years_.”

She nodded. “Then that is where I will begin.”

* * *

The next few days were an exercise in patience.

Biteshade, the Black Family Advocate, and Lord Black were at the table from what seemed like dawn until dusk. As a resident of the Sanctuary, I couldn’t actually _see_ dawn or dusk, but there were clocks enough about that I had a reasonable approximation of the time. I spent my days reading through the books I had brought and working on a few projects I had squirreled away in my luggage. It was stressful enough that I gave up on real progress and just started experimenting. I’d always found explosions, even minor ones, to be cathartic. Luckily, the Sanctuary included a warded workshop where I could tinker to my heart's content, or at least to the point of reasonable distraction.  At every meal, and sometimes at intervals between, Biteshade would visit me with the most recent batch of offers and counteroffers, all along a similar theme.

Most of day one was devoted to offerings of drastically increasing amounts of gold, gems, and properties in return for the other two stipulations remaining as-is. By the end of dinner on that day, I was scowling and Biteshade was showing recognizable signs of genuine amusement. I’d grown frustrated enough that I’d lost a certain amount of filtering and the words I’d been using to describe Lord Black were not complimentary, to say the least. I’ll admit that I was slightly tempted by the offer of rare tomes, but not enough to trade away my time or freedom.

Luckily, Lord Black – or his Advocate – finally realized that and we were all able to move on.

Day two was spent on the second provision. It took me half of that day to realize that the hemming and hawing from the other side of the metaphorical table was meant to determine whether I already had a significant other. I told Biteshade point blank that I hadn’t dated seriously since I turned seventeen and had no intentions of doing so until the soulmate situation was resolved, one way or the other. I had no real issues with exclusively dating, or _courting_ , Lord Black until we’d figured out if we were compatible in more than soul and magic. I had major problems with the length of time they were trying to get me to agree to: if I didn’t like him enough to agree to stick around based on his merits at the end of year one, I strongly doubted another two years would do anything other than make me angry.

I’m not sure how much of what I told the Goblin came out in the negotiations, but by day three the offerings were things that I could actually consider. How much of that was down to them being more palatable to me, personally, and how much of that could be attributed to my growing cabin fever was anyone’s guess. I wouldn’t say that I had gotten to the point of making reckless decisions, but I _was_ considering the proposals Biteshade was putting forth.

The sum of gold and land being settled on me was no longer an object of debate, as Biteshade knew I didn’t give a shit. The few times I'd asked, she'd only smiled in a vaguely threatening manner.  She did inform me that any money would not be mine until I had either accepted or rejected a proposal of marriage from Lord Black. The most recent offer required me to live in a Black Family property for a period of no less than three months, during which I would agree to be courted by Lord Black. If it was my desire, then at the end of those three months I would be free to live wherever I pleased. Regardless of where I lived, courtship would continue for a minimum of nine additional months, at the end of which there might be a marriage offer.  Whether or not Lord Black offered, that would be the end of my contractually obligated courtship period.  The vast majority of the contract would only really come into play if he offered and if I said yes.  Luckily, those were the parts in which he'd allowed me to have full sway.

The sole point of contention had been the courtship period...

One year of my life devoted to determining whether or not I wanted to be Lady Black, or a Black at all.

It sounded simple, put like that.  I knew it would be anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all awesome and your comments have been feeding this story.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't get used to this posting schedule. I'm not usually anywhere near this productive. Your reviews have been feeding my muse so... that's why you're getting all of these chapters in one week.

November 11th, 1986

I was in the hallway facing the two doors I’d last seen four days ago. Biteshade stood to my left, Greenlick to my right. From context and a few hints over the past few days, it was my understanding that the two Goblins were from the same Host. It explained why their ears were so animated whenever they spoke to each other. Currently, their ears, as well as the rest of them, were quite still as they waited for me to make up my mind.

If I went into the _negotiation_ room, it would signal my acceptance of terms. There would be no Portkey to pull me away from the binding of our magics. I rubbed my breastbone absently. I knew the ache behind my ribs was purely psychosomatic. My magic had been, for lack of a better term, _bruised_ by my actions in the Leaky, and while it hurt it was not a physical wound. It wasn’t even a _metaphysical_ wound, more of a preparatory phase. My magic was primed to heal itself, and the best way to do that would be to finish what was started. The next time I met Lord Black, our magics would mingle and that would be it: we would be tied forever. The courtship process would decide whether or not we chose to extend that link into marriage.

If I went into the _other_ room, negotiations would continue. At this point I wasn’t sure what they were negotiating, exactly. Biteshade had assured me that the terms were largely set. All major points had been addressed and now they were just kicking around minutiae while I mulled things over. I could still leave, theoretically. I could go home, forget about all of this…

My shoulders heaved with the force of my sigh.

Biteshade raised an eyebrow. “Your choice?”

The problem was that I wasn’t _ready_ to make a choice.

“I think I’ll see who’s accompanying Lord Black today,” I said brightly.

She nodded, expression unchanged, and gestured for Greenlick to open the door. After girding myself for more groping from the Black Family Magics, I followed him. Prepared, I did not stumble as I crossed the threshold and felt the sticky-cool glide of Black magics over my skin. There were four people in the room: Alphard Black, Remus Lupin, a woman I didn’t recognize, and-

_Fuck me gently with a chainsaw._

Harry Potter was curled up in the lap of the woman, his big green eyes locked on me and bright with curiosity. Small wonder, considering he could probably feel his magic reaching out for me, mine was _certainly_ reaching back for him. I yanked it back as hard as I could and focused on my warded jewelry, feeling it warm slightly. It was no use: my magic kept slipping from my grasp like I was grabbing fistfuls of water. If I didn’t do something fast, I’d be as tied to the child as I was to his adopted father. Tied, and without a contract to protect me from the land’s draconian laws.

 _Apparently_ Sirius Orion Black had magically adopted Harry James Potter. Even without Lord Black in the room, magic recognized that he and I made up two halves of a whole, or _would_ , as soon as we allowed our magic to mingle. Harry was Lord Black’s son in magic, and I was Lord Black’s soulmate. Magic recognized the implicit link between Harry and I and _my_ magic was _primed_ to bond.

It didn’t help my nerves that the Black Family Magics were making _yet another_ attempt to claim me.

“Greenlick,” I said as calmly as I could under the circumstances. “Assistance would be appreciated.”

He reached out and grabbed my hand. I swayed where I stood as the room’s threshold magics reacted and suddenly, as far as _my_ magic was concerned, I was alone in the room save for the Goblin. He turned my hand over and ran his nails along the tendon in my wrist before spreading them to run across my palm and down the length of my fingers. The Goblin magic tingled unpleasantly, and the sensation lingered even after he released me. Once he’d completed the gesture, he bowed to me smoothly and moved to his observation position against the wall.

I pasted a smile on my face and turned my attention back to the room at large. Harry was still watching me curiously, Remus and the strange woman had wide eyes and both had gone pale under their dark complexions. Alphard was inscrutable. “If this was a test,” I said softly, staring him down, “ _you failed_.”

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Alphard,” the woman said, voice starting out low and shaken but gaining strength as she went on: “Did you _know_ that that would happen?”

“Not as such-“

“ _Alphard!_ ”

He didn’t wince, per se, but there was a faint tightening of the muscles around his mouth.

“She hasn’t even _signed_ yet,” Remus bit out, looking stricken. “What if they had – and then if she _left_ -“

“I could _still_ leave,” I pointed out. “ _Believe me_ , I’m tempted.”

“Who are you?” the subject of the most recent controversy asked.

I smiled at him, which wasn’t hard to do considering that he was _adorable_. He had messy black hair, tawny skin and a nose with slightly too much character for such a young face. There were still echoes of his magic in my own, sweet and strong. “My name is Athena Sky,” I told him. “You can call me ‘Nina,’ if you’d like, all my friends do.”

“Are we going to be friends?”

It was a complicated question. I kept my eyes on his when I answered: “I’m not sure yet, I think that’ll be up to your dad.”

Remus scoffed.

I shot him the most withering glare I could muster and, to my delight, he flinched.

“Come along, darling, I think it’s best if we go visit the Vault.  Won't that be fun?” the woman, who had yet to be introduced, told the boy. She stood, easily balancing him on her hip, and headed for a door on the opposite side of the room from the one I’d entered. She paused briefly beside Alphard, side-eyeing him. “After all, I think we’ve seen what your _Uncle Alphie_ wanted us to see,” she said silkily, before continuing from the room.

“ _Her_ , I like,” I told the room, rubbing at my wrist. The moment the door had shut behind them, whatever Greenlick had done had released with a soft _pop_. The unpleasant tingling was fading away, as was the pull to Harry’s magic now that he was out of the room. Unfortunately, the Black Family Magics were back, and as pushy as ever. “Seriously?” I said, shoving them away _yet again_ and curling my magic securely within my skin and wards. “Can’t you keep it to yourself?”

“No,” Alphard said. “In fact, I am not certain how _you_ are keeping them at bay.”

“Wait, it’s really _completely_ unconscious on your parts?”

“Yes.”

I rocked back on my heels, pondering that. “I had assumed,” I began delicately, “that the Black Family Magics would only be allowed to settle on me if I agreed to matrimony.”

He actually _laughed_ at that. “My Lady, if the Family Magics had their way, you would be a Black already. Your defenses, and they are admirable, are the only thing keeping them from laying claim to you _now_. I expect that the moment you let your guard down around a member of my House, or on a Family property, you will be caught. Tell me, do those marvelous wards of yours work even while you sleep?”

I goggled at him. “Are you telling me that your Family Magic just goes around _adopting_ people willy-nilly?!”

“Spontaneous Family adoption is quite rare, in fact,” he assured me, a faint smile on his face.

“So that’s a ‘yes,’ then.” My wards probably wouldn’t stand up to a siege, not if I was unconscious at the time. Assuming I could keep the Family Magics from glomping onto me when Lord Black and I next met, and based on what I knew now, that was a _big assumption_ , there was no way in hell I’d manage three months on a Black Family property without succumbing. Fleeing back to America was looking better and better every moment. I raked my hands through my hair and my mouth started moving before my sense of decorum could catch up: “Why do your _stupid_ laws and your _stupid_ contracts and your _stupid_ magic have to make this so complicated?!”

Alphard shrugged gracefully. “You appear to be handling it adequately. Do you have any other concerns I can allay?”

He was lucky I was still so frazzled by his admissions concerning the Family Magics, or else I might have punched him, or at least made a good attempt. I’d been in the room less than ten minutes and already felt overwhelmed. This was too much, all of it. I was not prepared to be someone’s soulmate, let alone a mother – even if it was by magic – or a part of a Noble Magical Family.

Warm fingers wrapped around my elbow, carefully tugging me over to a seat. Remus settled me in one chair and then perched on the sofa opposite me, leaning over to grasp my hands in his. I don’t know why I let him. His touch was gentle and his magic somehow even moreso against mine. It was soothing in a way I couldn’t ignore, even if I found it utterly baffling. From my peripherals, I could see Alphard taking a seat in one of the other two armchairs, settling in to observe us.

“You’re scared,” the werewolf said.

“Would you _stop saying that_ ,” I said crossly.

“Once it stops being true. What are you scared of?” he asked, studying me intently. “Sirius is my best friend and I’ve known him since we were children. I’m more than happy to provide a character reference. The Black Family as a whole has a dark reputation, I know, but Sirius is the Head and they will follow him. What are you scared of?”

I tugged at his hold on my hands half-heartedly, but he wouldn’t let go. If he asked again, I’d be compelled to answer. Rather than have truth pulled from me, I grit my teeth and admitted: “I’ve not even _spoken_ to the man and somehow we’ve already got three tethers between us. We’re soulmates, I knew that coming here. But now there’s a magically adopted child and apparently an _entire House_ all waiting in the wings! I didn’t come here expecting a – a ready-made family!”

Remus nodded encouragement for me to continue.

On some level I appreciated that he was taking me seriously, or at least faking it well.

“You’d already fought in a way by the time you were the age I am now,” I said tiredly. “I may not know all the particulars, but I can read between the lines. I’ve had a subscription to the Prophet for years. You Brits and your blood wars are a whole mess of trouble, and my soulmate is smack dab in the middle of it all. He’s a Noble Lord. He fought in the last war. He’s raising the savior from your society’s darkest hour and I… I’m a talented witch, but I’m not a _hero_.”

“At some point, I’m going to tell him you implied that you think he’s a hero,” Remus said, eyes bright with humor.

I yanked my hands back and scoffed. “You-“

“Give him a chance. Give _yourself_ a chance. Knowing him and having met you, I’m certain you won’t regret it,” he said quietly.

“You would regret it if you left now,” Alphard said. “You would regret never knowing.”

I shot him a sour look.

“He’s not wrong,” Remus pointed out.

“No, he’s not wrong,” I admittted. _He’s just an asshole_.

The ‘he’ in question smiled so smugly that I almost regretted not saying my thoughts out loud.

He probably would have taken it as a compliment.

“Do you have any other concerns?” Alphard asked.

“ _Many_.”

“But?” Remus prodded.

“But nothing else that can be addressed before actually meeting Lor – my soulmate,” I admitted.

Alphard’s eyes lit up. “Ah, and so?”

“I’ll talk things over with my Advocate at lunch. If we’re satisfied with the contract, then…” I took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then continued: “Then I will sign and, I guess, we’ll see what happens.”

* * *

Lunch with Biteshade consisted of very little food and a whole lot of reading and discussing what was read. I went over the fine print with her and, while I was still leery about certain stipulations, namely three months under a Black Family roof, this was the best that I was going to get. My hand was shaking when she passed me a quill. I signed quickly, feeling my magic settle into the paper and make my signature glow for just a moment. Somewhere else in the Enclave, my signature had just appeared on Lord Black’s identical copy of the contract.

Even as I watched, his signature appeared on the line above mine.

His magic clung to me a little even as it saturated his writing and then it was done.

Signed, sealed, my next twelve months set in paper, ink and magic. Combined, they were a thousand times stronger than stone.

And _this_ had been the _easy part_.

Now that lunch was over, I was off to meet Lord Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not offering internet cookies for guesses as to who the mystery lady is, mostly because I think it's obvious.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 chapters and 13,000 words in, we finally meet Sirius. Hope it was worth the wait!

I didn’t panic as I followed Biteshade back down to the negotiation room. _This_ was the easy part. I didn’t have to fight, or try, or work hard to make the literal magic happen. This wasn’t something I could mess up, even if I actively tried. There were no words or actions to be interpreted, there was just _magic_. My magic and his magic and our souls, intrinsically tied regardless of everything else.

“I will wait here,” Biteshade said, stopping beside the door.

“Your assistance has been invaluable.” _That was the understatement of the decade_. “What will you do now?”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “I will remain your Advocate.” Her ears tipped up slightly at the confusion on my face. “Did you think our bargain would end with this contract? I will join your Family’s Advocates, no matter the Family you choose.”

“What makes you think I would join a Family other than the Blacks?"  For that matter: "What if I _leave_ the Blacks?”

Biteshade smiled enigmatically. “I am prepared for any eventuality.”

This was brand new information that I had no idea how to handle. I nodded to the Goblin and moved to the door, resolving to speak to Heather as soon as international communication options and her schedule allowed. This sort of thing, contracts and laws and _politics_ , was her specialty – not mine. I could make a good showing of it because I had a tendency to overthink things and pick at minor details, but I didn’t love it like she did and I doubted I ever would. Come to think of it, Heather would have made a _fantastic_ Goblin.

Maybe she would be one in her next life?

I shook those thoughts from my head and waited for Biteshade to open the door. There was a not-so-small part of me that wanted to yell, “Wait!” I wanted to stall the process, not because there was something else I wanted to do or have prepared, but because this was _change_ in its purest form. Everything would be different the moment that door opened and I walked through it. Nothing would be the same again. We don’t often get to have such brightly lit signposts in our lives to indicate crossroads. Robert Frost poems aside, there are roads we choose in our lives without ever knowing that those choices were pivotal and made all the difference.

Biteshade ran a claw down the door.

It opened, and I walked over the threshold and straight into another person. I’m not sure what reacted more quickly: my magic or Lord Black’s reflexes. He caught me before I could rebound off of him, turning slightly to keep my momentum from knocking us both back into the door. Between that contact and our proximity it was enough to wake my magic, his magic, and the Black Family Magics.  They positively _exploded_ around us. I was grateful for the fact that he was holding me up because my knees had gone wobbly.

My magic felt _ecstatic_ , like new discovery and sudden success and hard-won satisfaction.

The Black Family Magics were up to their old groping tricks, but this time _I_ wasn’t holding back, so _they_ weren’t holding back. They curled around me, around _us_ , and now that I wasn’t fighting them the _possession_ and _pride_ aspects receded a little into the background, outshone by the pervasive feeling of _protection_. The Black Family Magics felt, to me, like a weighted bundle of blankets on a cold winter’s night.

If the Black Magics were the comfort and security of being wrapped in heavy blankets, Lord Black’s magic was _sheer warmth_. It poured over me, through me, butted at my ankles playfully, flicked at my hair teasingly, wrapped me up and held me close and I shivered in his arms as his magic echoed the embrace. This, with his magic cradling mine, was the warmest I'd felt since first coming to this cold country. The Family Magic felt like _safety_ , but _his_ magic felt like _home_.

It was overwhelming.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he was feeling from _my_ magic.

Under these circumstances, I think it’s perfectly understandable that my first actual words to my soulmate weren’t something polite like an introduction, or profound like a promise. My first words were, in fact, spoken directly into his collarbone and muffled by his robes: “Did you have to stand _right in front of the door?_ ”

His arms tightened around me. “All things considered, aren’t you glad I did?”

Yes, but I didn’t want to admit that. “You can let me go now.”

He hummed an agreement that I could feel vibrating in his chest. “I can, yes.” He did not make a move to let me go. In fact, he tilted his head and, unless I missed my guess, he was breathing in the smell of my hair. “I do feel compelled to point out that _you_ haven’t let _me_ go,” he murmured. “That doesn’t quite seem fair, does it?”

I could feel heat creeping up my neck and into my face because he was _right_ , damnit. I’d slipped my hands under his robes to grab at his shirt. It probably happened around the same time my knees went all wobbly. I had just as a firm a grip on _him_ as he had on _me_. “Sorry,” I said, letting go and stepping back. He released me immediately, and I got my first good look at my soulmate.

He was taller than me, but aside from that the first thing I noticed were his eyes. They were a bright gray, almost silver color, framed by lashes so thick and black that I felt an immediate spike of envy. His eyes were _beautiful_. They were set in a face a bit too _intense_ to be called honestly handsome. He was incredibly attractive, but 'handsome' had connotations I associated with 'pretty' and for all that he was aristocratic there was something about his face that was too dark for _handsome_.  Lord Black’s features had that same refined quality that his uncle and brother shared, but there was a certain softness that was missing, or had been pared away. Between his silver eyes, dark gold skin like his uncle’s, and long blue-black hair, he looked like the embodiment of the Black Family Magic, the magic that was even now sinking into my very bones with a feeling of satisfaction that was closer to _triumph_.

Then he smiled at me, and that – that was just _unfair_.

“Athena Sky,” I introduced myself, firmly squashing my reactions to him under lock and key.

The Family Magics buffeted me gently, enough to sway me but not enough to make me stumble.

Lord Black shook his head. “I think you’ll find that you’re Athena _Black_ now, by magic’s reckoning.”

I blinked. “You’re kidding... You’re _not_ kidding.” I took a deep breath and addressed the Family Magics directly, “I’m not sure what _the hell_ you’re doing, but my name is my own and ‘Sky’ has been my name _my whole life_. I didn’t agree to drop Sky, so _put it back._ ” There was a faint quiver, a pulse of something that wasn’t apologetic but might have been slightly chagrined. I waited a moment and then said, “My name is Athena Sky-”

The room echoed with the word, “ _Black_ ,” in a thousand whispery voices.

The hair on my arms and the back of my neck prickled. “Athena Sky Black,” I allowed grudgingly.

The Black Family Magics pulsed and twirled around us, satisfied.

“Sirius Orion Black,” he returned, a faint smile on his face. “Please, call me Sirius.”

I sensed that if I started making name-based puns we would probably never leave the room.  Besides, there were other topics to address, such as the question that had burned in my mind since my seventeenth birthday.  I both did and did not want to ask. “Your mark – what is it?”

“I assume yours is my name?”

I nodded, tapping two fingers against a spot just below and inside my left hipbone.

His eyes followed the motion, the silver getting brighter for a moment. His magic, still actively twining with mine as mine with his, stuttered briefly. “Interesting. I have a series of tracks on my back, two creatures running in tandem. I don’t suppose you can guess what they are?”

“I’ve got a decent idea what one of them might be,” I lied evenly. I had a decent guess what _both_ of them might be, assuming they reflected our Animagus forms. I had no way of knowing if that particular facet of the books was also true in this reality, but just in case I had made it a point to learn the transformation technique. Heather thought my form was oddly fitting, Todd found it _hilarious_ , and mom had gotten me a book on relevant mythologies.  Mom was stellar like that.

“A conversation for another time, perhaps. For now…” He studied me for a moment, features softening at whatever he found. “Lunch? I know it’s past, but I’ll admit I didn’t eat much of the Goblin’s fine fare. Regulus likely hasn’t eaten yet, so there’ll be something at the London house.”

That sounded familiar, from memories from this world and the last. “Grimmauld Place?” I ventured. “Isn’t that where-“

“Where you’ll be staying, yes.” He offered me his arm, folding his hand over my own as soon as I rested it in the crook of his elbow. “It’s not my favorite of the properties,” he said lightly, guiding me to the opposite side of the room and the door there. “But who knows, it may grow on me over the next few months.”

Wait a minute. “I thought-“

“The Contract stipulated that you would not be required to move in to my preferred Family Home, it said nothing about my choosing to move in with _you_ ,” he said, grinning down at me. “Cheer up, Athena, it’s only a season!”

* * *

He kept my hand in his, curled over his arm, through our departure from the room, discussion with the Advocates – Biteshade would be going with the Black Advocate, Gorelock, and they were either going to fight to the death or adopt each other as blood siblings, it could be hard to tell with Goblins – and the gathering of my effects. He didn’t even release me when we met back up with Remus and Alphard. Harry and the woman, who turned out to be Andromeda Black (I made a mental note to ask about that), had gone on ahead to prepare things at Grimmauld.

“Chin up, my Lady,” Alphard said, seeing me scowl over the housing situation. “You cannot get your way in all things.”

That was so – I couldn’t _believe_ he just – I gaped at him. There were _too many words._

“Speaking of ‘getting our way,’” Sirius broke in, “what were your intentions in bringing Harry along?”

I could feel his magic coiling back, curling tightly around him and me in a manner that reminded me of an angry dog pacing at the end of its tether. The Family Magics came down on both Alphard and me, thickening in the air as they answered to their Lord’s call. Judging by his posture they came down on Alphard to a much greater degree. I felt swaddled, but he looked _pressed_ in the ‘more weight!’ sense.

He bowed his head, “Sirius-“

“We’ll discuss this later.” His magic snapped a little, but subsided after a moment.

“As you say, my Lord,” Alphard agreed.

Sirius pulled a face but didn’t say anything else to his uncle. After a second, he turned to Remus, who had been watching everything unfold. The two of them locked eyes and a series of micro expressions flashed over their faces, ending in a faint frown for Remus and a mild wince for Sirius. “Remus will _also_ be moving to Grimmauld for a time,” he said after a moment. “To chaperone.”

Remus folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Please?”

I looked over at the werewolf and employed my best puppy eyes. So far, of the Blacks and Black-affiliated individuals I had met, he seemed the least political and sneaky, which I supposed made sense. He was the only Gryffindor around, aside from my soulmate. From what I’d seen so far it seemed I brought out Sirius’s Slytherin side.

“I suppose, if you think it’s best,” Remus said, sighing.

“Full house,” I murmured.

“Hardly,” Sirius said. “Grimmauld could host an army.”

* * *

Remus and Alphard hung back, watching Sirius lead Athena through the halls of Gringotts to the Floo. There was a wealth of magic swirling around the pair. Sirius’s magic darted in and around the duo, dancing over and through Athena’s. Athena’s own magic moved more slowly, ebbing and flowing between the pair in a smooth, constant rhythm. The Black Family Magics wrapped around them and their magic both, pulsing with life and vitality.

“She’s going to be murderous once she realizes that, marriage or no, she’ll not be getting rid of the Black Magics,” Remus murmured.

Alphard shrugged gracefully. “I will rely on her own good sense for this matter. She is not a fool, if she has not realized yet why they are so eager for her, she will in time. She is too well suited to the Black Magics to deny the truth very long. I am confident she will make a fine Lady for our House.”

“The Black Family Magics are uniquely suited to holding a grudge, and _she_ ’s quite suited to the Family,” Remus pointed out. “I’d be ready with gifts, when it all comes out. She’s already unhappy about the property loophole.”

Alphard pursed his lips, saying nothing.

“Just a thought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 points to the House of your choice if you can guess what Athena's animagus form is...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that you are all awesome? It is very true.

“It will be easier if you let me Side-Along you the first time,” Sirius said.

My things were shrunk and stuffed in my pockets, I'd switched my coat for outer robes.  I was as ready to go to a Black Family property as I'd ever be.  I had barely finished nodding to him before I felt the telltale straw sucking sensation and pressure of ‘porting assault my inner ear. I rocked into his side as we landed, squeezing his arm and locking my knees to keep to my feet. He braced me easily, an action made even simpler by the fact that we were still arm-in-arm, and waited for me to steady myself.

“All right?”

“Fine, thanks,” I said, looking around curiously. We were in a small garden, lush with greenery and a cornucopia of colors and plants I didn’t recognize. Walls of some slightly shimmery brick material marked off three sides of the garden. The fourth side, the view directly in front of us, was dominated by a townhouse. I experienced the odd magical double vision so common with wixen architecture as I saw that the surrounding homes both did and did not press flush against the walls of what must be Grimmauld Place. In one view they did, but at the same time, in between blinks, I could see that there was at least a good 150 feet of space separating the estate from the surrounding homes. I squinted at the dual view and grimaced as the lingering vertigo of ‘portation combined with the dizzying sight before me.

“You’re sensitive,” Sirius said slowly. “I didn’t realize.”

My shoulders drew up. “It’s not entirely under my control,” I admitted, not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll save the tour for later, then. Or never. Reg does a better job of it.”

“Should we wait for-“

“They probably went right in, I’ll need to key you to the house. Come along,” he said, as if he wasn’t already holding my hand and pulling me to walk beside him. “Reg’s done loads with the place in the past few years, he’s the one that really lives here, but the Wards answer to me first and foremost-“

The instant I came within five feet of the stoop I felt the Black Magics rise like a tidal wave from the direction of the house and then I was stumbling back with a feeling not unlike being punched in the solar plexus. Sirius caught and steadied me, yanking me closer to wrap both his arms around me as I sagged in his grip. I was panting for breath under the weight of information that had just been lobbed none-too-gently directly into the core of my magics: a full summary and accounting of the Wards on the property that was so detailed and visceral that I felt as if I’d been there to place and cast each one.

“Might be a good time to mention that I’m a certified Ward Magus,” I said, gulping for air. I felt a bit like a piece of laundry that had just finished going through a dryer’s spin cycle. “Have I mentioned that your Family Magics are _pushy_ and _overbearing_? Also, highhanded, arrogant, and downright _rude_.”

“I thought Alphard was exaggerating,” he muttered, staring down at me with wide eyes. “You’re trouble,” he informed me with a shake of his head. He then proceeded to swing me into his arms and head towards the house.

“ _I’m_ trouble?!” I squawked. “It’s _your_ Family Magics that – put me _down_!”

Sirius paused on the doorstep to give me a small smile. “Don’t worry, I _like_ trouble.”

That was not charming. I was not charmed. “That’s _not_ the – _where_ do you even – put me _down_ ,” I demanded again.

Sirius shot me a frown even as the door smoothly opened, revealing an expressionless Regulus. “Really?” the younger wizard asked, in the tone that all beleaguered younger siblings seemed to pick up. It was clear that the question was directed at his brother. “Isn’t it a bit _early_ for grand gestures? Especially ones so obviously unappreciated?”

It took a second for his implication to click for me: bonding, thresholds, _carrying_.

“It’s not a _gesture_ , Reggie, it’s a _necessity_ ,” Sirius was insisting. “The wards passed to her-“

I elbowed him in the chest. “It is _not_ a necessity, put me down!”

“Can you walk? Really?”

“ _Yes_ ,” I insisted. It was true. Probably.

With lips pressed together and a scowl on his face, Sirius very slowly and carefully set my feet back on the ground. An instant later he was snatching me back up into his arms when my knees immediately started to buckle. “Look at us,” he said cheerful tone at odds with the frustrated glint in his eyes. He carried me past his brother and further into the house. “Barely a minute under a shared roof and we’re already learning things about each other. For instance, I now know you’re too stubborn for your own good and refuse to ask for help-“

“And _I_ now know you’re every bit as overbearing and pushy as your Family’s Magic!” I hissed.

His personal magic surged against mine and he shot me an unreadable look.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I promised you lunch, my lady,” he said. “I _keep_ my promises.”

I folded my arms and glowered at him as he carried me through the house, too focused on his stubborn jaw and my own ire to pay any real attention to our surroundings. I already knew just about everything I needed to know about the property due to the Black Family Magics. There were currently about a dozen sentient beings in the house, all tracked by the Wards. This place could, and had, survived just about anything thrown at it, up to and including actual bombs.

And, according to the Family Magics, it was now my responsibility.

“Sirius! What on earth are you doing?” an unfamiliar male voice called.

I craned my neck around to meet friendly hazel eyes set in a pale freckled face, topped with floppy auburn hair. The stranger was a Black, based on what my magic was telling me, but he didn’t look like anyone else I’d met thus far. He matched stride with Sirius, smiling at me genially.

“Wotcher, you must be the soulmate!”

“ _Must_ I?” I asked. Deserts in summertime at high noon had more moisture than my tone.

The stranger did not take offense, no, instead he burst into chuckles. He had one of those laughs that was downright infectious and I found myself smiling at him. “Oh, I _like_ you,” he told me. “It’ll be nice to have another outlaw ‘round the place. Theodore Tonks-Black, call me Ted,” he instructed me, reaching across Sirius to offer his hand for me to shake. “I’m Andie – er – _Andromeda’s_ husband.”

I shook his hand, noting his firm grip and quietly bubbling magic. “Nice to meet you,” I said. “’Outlaw?’”

“Another married-in,” he explained. “We’re not crazy by blood like this lot, we’re crazy by choice, so, outlaws.”

I bit back an uncharitable comment about soulmates and the nature of choice and hummed noncommittally instead.

Ted shot me a knowing look. “We’re also Muggleborns mucking about in an Ancient and Noble House.”

“Ah,” I said, the ‘outlaws’ thing making a bit more sense now. According to certain laws, assuming one was without the protection of a contract, our presence in the House and even on the property could have been considered illegal. I smiled at him tentatively; it would be nice to have another ally in the house and in the House.

His grin increased in brightness at my reciprocation and he clapped Sirius on the back. “Lunch'll be set up in the Daisy Parlor.”

Sirius nodded shortly and picked up his pace. Two lefts and a right later we entered a large, airy room covered in low couches and card tables. The walls were lined in bookshelves covered in books all shapes, sizes and colors. I startled a little when Sirius sank onto a loveseat and only _then_ did he set me down, keeping an arm around me while he plopped me directly next to him. He carefully drew away my outer travel robes, tossing them over the back of the couch.

He was, I realized abruptly, _fussing_ over me.

“I’m _fine_ ,” I said firmly, reaching out and pressing my hands over his to still them.

There was an amused chuckle, and I looked up to see Remus entering the room with Regulus and Alphard. “Barely an hour and already assuming responsibilities as our Lady?” the latter asked. “ _My_ , but you do work fast. Any suggestions for improvements?” he continued, spreading his hands to indicate the walls of the room.

This was why I wanted Heather here. I knew enough to know I was missing things, but hadn’t a hope in Hades of guessing _what_ , exactly. I blanked my expression and took his question at face value, humming a little under my breath as I skimmed the Wards. “A few, actually,” I said, focusing inwards. “You’ve got a series of decaying wards that can be layered or stacked into existing matrices, and there’s something interfering with-“ I frowned. There was the magical equivalent of a lockbox somewhere inside the house, a single spot so bound up in containment magics that it acted like a black hole sucking in ambient energy around it. “You-“ I looked up to see that all four men were staring at me and swallowed. “You _did_ ask,” I said defensively.

“So I did,” Alphard murmured, lips curving.

“Are you all right?” Remus asked, glancing from me to Sirius and back again.

“ _Fine_ ,” I insisted.

“The Black Magics dumped the wards for Grimmauld on her as soon as she touched the steps,” Sirius said.

Remus's eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “Goodness, really?”

“I’m a certified Ward Magus,” I said flatly.

Alphard snorted, “Of _course_ you are.” He lifted his brows in polite inquiry: “Any other hidden talents?”

 _Three certifications, two Masteries, and an animagus form_. “A few.”

Further conversation was halted by the arrival of Ted. “Andie’s got Harry,” he said to Sirius. “We’ll take him overnight until you two-“ he made a fiddly gesture encompassing the couch I was sitting on with my soulmate. My expression must have been a picture because he blanched and hastened on: “Until you two talk! You should talk.”

I raised my brows and smiled as blandly as possible. “Talk about the magically adopted child of my soulmate and the resonant bond that will almost certainly form next time we meet? Yes. Lets _talk_.”

* * *

What followed was an awkward conversation wherein it was established that everyone wanted to protect Harry. I would have called the Black family members ‘overprotective’ but, well, it wasn’t an overreaction. Or, as Heather would say, ‘Not paranoia if they really are… blah blah blah.’ It came down to this: I was happy to spend time with Harry, but I was not happy about the nascent bond between us. This was not meant as a slur or aspersion on the kid and, luckily, they realized that.

Sirius stayed pretty quiet throughout the discussion, leaving most of the talking to Remus and Alphard. The dynamic duo was, I was coming to realize, the Family’s version of the good cop/bad cop paradigm. Remus was understanding and sweet, Alphard was sarcastic and cutting, and between them they’d divined my desires and motivations faster than you could say ‘perceptive bastards.’ Ted observed me, a faint smile on his face, but I was sure he was picking up a good deal more than they were if only because of our shared mundane origins. Regulus watched his brother, utterly inscrutable.

“Look,” I finally said, “I do not want yet another magical tether between us-“ I blindly gestured at Sirius, “-before everything else is settled. If things… don’t work out, it would be significantly easier for all concerned if I don’t have any particular attachment to Harry, or he to me.”

“Easier for everyone or just easier for you?” Sirius challenged. “It’s easy to walk away when you don’t put in any effort.”

I drew back, stung. “That’s not – if we turn out to be… _incompatible_ , do you really want to be stuck with me as the co-parent of your kid? Do you really want to make that decision _right now_? You just met me! _Today_!”

He had a funny little smile on his face, but his eyes were hard. “I think I’ve got a good idea of who you are, and we may have only met today but we’ve been interacting for over a week. Our contract made it clear what your priorities are, and what you want from me.”

“Oh? And just what is it that you _think_ I want from you?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he said with a beatific smile. “Well, nothing material, anyways.”

My mouth was gaping open and shut like a guppy’s, I just knew it. “And that’s enough to trust me with your _kid_? What kind of reckless, half-assed – what the _hell’s_ wrong with you?” I demanded.

“Absolutely nothing,” Sirius said again, smile abruptly shifting into something sharp and satisfied.

If he added a smidge of ‘smug’ he’d be the spitting image of his uncle.

He leaned into me abruptly, ducking his head till we were eye-to-eye and rubbing his thumb back and forth across the palm of my hand – the hand he hadn’t released since we sat down. “Your magic is made of walls and buttresses, it’s a fortress. Did you know? You’ve built yourself foundations and fortifications all designed to protect you and yours.” He raised his eyebrows at me, “Why _wouldn’t_ I want my child to be yours as well, when I know exactly how fiercely you’ll guard him the instant you develop an _attachment_?”

“Why do you think the Family Magics cleave to you so strongly?” Alphard put in, ending the charged moment between his nephew and I.

“Like calls to like,” Ted said, a lopsided smile on his face.

I looked at the three of them and there was too much, too many questions, too many assumptions, too much had been revealed and I had no real idea how to proceed. “I was promised lunch,” I said grumpily, yanking my hand from Sirius’s and collapsing back against the sofa. I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow at him, a mute: ‘Well?’

“So you were, my lady,” he said, and his smile had lost all that sharpness. He gestured, and with a soft ‘pop’ the low tables before and beside our seating were abruptly covered in a number of finger foods. “Preferences?” he asked, grabbing a plate.

“ _I can walk!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Athena is consistently missing nuance partially because she's consistently undervaluing herself - this is not because she has self-esteem issues, this is because she assumes that THEY will discount her on account of her heritage. The fact the literally none of them are doing or have done this is completely throwing off her calculations and her planned interactions. In short: she walked in expecting to be relegated to 'unwanted embarrassment' status and instead the instant magic got involved she was elevated to 'presumptive Lady of the House.' She's expecting blood to play a bigger role, but soulmates and soulmate magic have shifted things a bit.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all continue to be lovely and awesome and I want you to know that I _really truly_ appreciate your encouragement. Thank you!

By the time I convinced Sirius to let me get up and get my own damn food, Remus had made up a small plate for me. I couldn’t bring myself to scold him when he offered it with such a hangdog expression of sincere concern. It felt careful and caring, like I’d been slipped into a well-worn dance. It made me wonder a little, at the way they’d so seamlessly set about distracting and then providing for me. Did I remind them, in that moment, of friends lost? It wasn’t the right moment to ask, so I tabled that thought for later reflection. I felt very _managed_ , but it didn’t feel patronizing or condescending, so I let it slide for the moment.

The truth was that having the Black Family Magics dump the wards on me _had_ thrown me for a loop and it _was_ tiring. On a good, standard day, accepting the wards for such an old, incredibly magical property would have been a drain on my resources. It had been the third intense shift in my magical equilibrium, and the day wasn’t even over yet. I picked at the food Remus had passed me and stayed on the couch, focusing on identifying the components before tasting the variety of small sandwiches, canapés, and artfully cut and arranged fruits and veg.

“Is everything to your liking?” Regulus asked politely.

“It all looks great,” I said. “Even the stuff I can’t quite identify.”

Ted chuckled. “You get used to it.”

That was only a little comforting. “How long did it take you?”

He seesawed his hand back and forth. “Depends, are we counting from when I married in, or from when I joined the Black Family?”

Here was the chance to get some of my questions answered. “Those were different times?”

Ted nodded. “Andie was disowned and cast from the Family when she chose to marry me by the then-head, Arcturus. Sirius offered to reinstate her after he challenged for, and won, the Family. She wouldn’t come without me, but luckily I’m a likable sod and the Family Magics went along with the whole thing. Never thought I’d join another House after Hogwarts, but I don’t regret it.”

That raised more questions than it had answered. I started making a mental list.

“Is this the first time you have been part of a House?” Alphard asked me.

I shrugged a shoulder. “Yes and no. My first and fourth apprenticeships involved something similar to House magic. There aren’t as many Houses in the Americas, as I’m sure you’re aware. There’s a much stronger focus on genii loci rather than ancestral pools of magic and intent. In my first apprenticeship, I worked primarily for the Instituto de Espejos and their loci is bound into the salt of the Salar de Uyuni. In my fourth apprenticeship…” I locked eyes with Alphard and gave him a smile worthy of Biteshade, “I worked for the Oregon Goblin Enclave.”

The room didn’t go silent, per se, as it hadn’t been loud to begin with, but everyone paused.

“And when did you set your sights on winning the favor of the Goblins?” Alphard asked.

“Shortly after my seventeenth birthday.”

Alphard lifted his glass to me in a small salute, then tilted his head towards Regulus, though his eyes did not leave mine: “Slytherin.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow at his uncle and then eyed me skeptically.

“She came here alone, to a foreign country, in spite of her justifiable concerns regarding the laws and customs,” Remus said, grinning. “I’d say Gryffindor.”

“Hufflepuff,” Ted threw in with a wide smile. “She’s clearly not afraid of hard work.”

“’She’ is also sitting right here,” I pointed out. “And isn’t this all a little silly? I didn’t go to Hogwarts, we’ll never know for sure.”

Regulus locked eyes with Sirius and mouthed the word ‘books.’

“ _Ravenclaw_ ,” the brothers pronounced simultaneously and with utter certainty.

“You’re already a Ward Magus at 21,” Regulus said.

“And your Advocate _was_ rather interested in my library,” Sirius put in.

“She’s a swot,” Regulus sighed, shaking his head and returning his attention to his food.

“I _like_ swots,” Sirius said.

“You may have a point,” Alphard conceded.

“Does it actually matter?” I asked. _What the hell is a ‘swot?’_

“Not a whit,” Ted assured me. “It’s just we’re rather outnumbered by snakes in this House.”

“Well, nobody’s hissed at me yet.”

* * *

After the meal, everyone scattered. Remus went to his home to pack a satchel for his stay, Ted went to _his_ home to prepare for dinner with Andie and Harry, and Alphard went _away_ – that was more than enough for me. Regulus turned to Sirius and the two of them dropped into a fast-paced and overlapping conversation made of partial words and cut-off sentences as they interrupted and spoke over each other. I knew that whatever they were discussing involved the house, and me, but beyond that I could not make head or tail of it.

Regulus had a faintly satisfied look on his face and Sirius was clearly annoyed when they finished. He loosed a sigh and then turned to me. “Reggie’s got a set of rooms set up for you already, in the Family wing. If you prefer, you can take the Master bedroom instead,” he offered. “Nobody’s using it at the moment.”

The Master bedroom was, in a house as old as this one, probably where the Wards were keyed. That sounded about as appealing as sleeping in my workshop at home. “I’m sure whatever you’ve prepared is lovely,” I told Regulus.

He nodded briefly. “If you’ll follow me,” he said, and stood.

Sirius snapped to his feet as well and offered me his arm.

“I can _walk_ ,” I said, and this time it was a warning.

“Humor me?” he asked hopefully.

Since it really _was_ a request this time, I slipped my arm through his and tried very hard not to think about positive reinforcement training and puppy manuals. It was uncharitable of me at best, downright mean at worst, and a good indicator that I needed some quiet time to process and recharge. I walked with Sirius and we followed Regulus out of the Daisy Parlor.

This time I was able to pay more attention to the way the house was decorated. The hallways had tall ceilings and were lined with softly glowing witchlights. They were paneled in dark wood to near waist height, each piece intricately carved though I did not have time to linger over the designs. The rest was painted in a color that at first seemed light blue, then purple, then mauve, until I realized it was actually shifting before my eyes. Every doorway leading out of the main hallways was lined in alternating woods: half the wood that made up the paneling and half a different wood. The doors themselves were always made out of the other wood, which made them stand out from the paneling and paint. I could identify different colors and what I could _guess_ were different grains, which seemed to indicate a variety of trees. The effect was lovely, but I knew that, Wardholder or no, I would be getting lost in Grimmauld quite frequently.

“Is there a map?” I asked Sirius, only half kidding.

“A map?” he echoed, frowning down at me. He glanced back up and seemed to be looking at the hallway with new eyes. “Oh, right. Never really thought about it…no, my lady. There’s no map, but I’m happy to be your guide.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. If he thought I was going to rely on him for _three months…_

“Reggie! Have you assigned my lady an Elf?” he called ahead.

Regulus nodded, but did not pause; instead leading us through several more twists and turns before we reached what was apparently our destination. He nodded towards a door with alternating dark and light woods, the lighter wood looked almost reddish. “This is the room I had prepared for you once your preference for London was put into the contract,” he said a little stiffly, then opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

I went in and found an absolute _haven_. The room was done up in shades of blue and cream, but instead of looking like an untouchable showroom for display, the effect was wonderfully soothing. The wood flooring was the same lighter reddish wood that made up the pattern on the lintel and door. Rugs in varying shades of midnight, navy, taupe and cream, all decorated with shells and seaweed were scattered over the floor. The walls were a pale blue that reminded me of misty fall mornings.

There was a window seat in the wall to my left that was absolutely _covered_ in thick pillows that were striped in the same colors found on the rugs. From where I stood, it looked as though the window had a view of the garden, and somehow we must have climbed a few floors during our journey through the house, though I didn’t recall seeing any stairs. There was a large desk to my right, again in the same reddish wood on the floor and doorway. It had a ridiculous amount of drawers and I absolutely couldn’t wait to investigate every nook and cranny.

Directly before me was the bed, clearly the centerpiece of the room. It was quite large, though not quite ‘orgy and a hippogriff’ big. It looked like a storm cloud, that is to say it appeared to be very fluffy and plush, and was a very dark blue that verged on charcoal. It took a great deal of restraint not to launch myself at it and belly flop in the middle.

I resolved to do so as soon as I was alone.

“Will this suffice?” Regulus asked, drawing my attention back to the door. Both Black brothers were still standing outside, looking in. Regulus’s face was drawn as he waited for my verdict, while Sirius was inspecting the room curiously.

“Huh,” he said. “Didn’t this used to be-“

“Yes.”

“But you’ve-“

“ _Obviously_.”

“It’s different… I like it,” Sirius decided.

“I didn’t ask for _your_ opinion,” Regulus said, but it was clear from the way that his posture had loosened that his brother’s approval mattered.

“I love it,” I said, beaming at them both.

“Enough to stay for more than a season?” Sirius asked.

I shrugged.

“Good enough for now.”

Regulus smiled at me, and it wasn’t anywhere near as overwhelming as his brother’s smile, but it made me feel warm inside. “Krawly will serve as your Elf for the duration of your stay, if you approve. Krawly!”

There was a soft ‘pop’ and then a House Elf appeared. The Elf was slender, like all her kind, and had ears so tall and wide that I half wondered if she might be able to use them to fly. “Krawly would be pleased to serve the Lady,” she chirped, voice high and sweet.

“I’m sure we’ll get along famously,” I said. My experiences with House Elves could be counted on one hand.

“I’ll take my leave of you,” Regulus said, nodding first to Sirius and then to me.

“Will the Lady be needing anything?”

“No, thank you, Krawly. I will call if I think of something.”

She nodded and disappeared with another pop.

I dropped my outer robes on the chair by the desk and pulled my shrunken luggage out of my pockets. Once that was done, I paused. I probably could have asked Krawly to do my unpacking for me. Or _I_ could unpack, have some time to myself, be alone for a bit, but… I glanced to the doorway, where Sirius still stood, watching me.

He smiled when he caught my eye, looking a bit sheepish. “Don’t suppose you might want that tour now?”

“I thought you said Regulus did it better?”

He grimaced. “I did say that, didn’t I? He does. Would you like me to fetch him back?” he offered unenthusiastically.

“What I’d _like_ is some peace and quiet, but…”

“But?”

“Do you feel-“ I grimaced and gestured at the air between us.

“Do I feel…what?” Sirius asked, his expression guarded.

“There’s a _pull_ ,” I said. If this was one-sided… well, there were worse fates, but I’d be hard-pressed to name any right now. I moved toward the doorway and reached out, grabbing one of his hands and linking our fingers. I could feel his magic weaving through my own and I imagined that it was something like a dance: once we’d learned the steps it would be easier, automatic, akin to muscle memory. For now, though, we needed to be close to keep the rhythm.

He drew me to him slowly, giving me time to object. When I didn’t, he embraced me fully, pulling loose of my grip in order to wrap both arms around me. My face was pressed up against his collarbone again, our position mimicking the one we’d fallen into when we bonded.

I relaxed into his arms because he was _so warm_. Everything in my magic, everything in _his_ magic, was telling me that I was _safe_ and this was _home_. I let my forehead drop to his shoulder and closed my eyes, drifting. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself relax like this and just _be_.

I’ve no idea how long we stood there like that.

Eventually, I felt Sirius draw in a deep and somewhat ragged breath.  "I don't give the best tours," he said, voice a little rough, "but I could show you the library..."  I'm sure he felt me smile, since the next thing he did was chuckle.  " _Swot_ ," he said, and it was pronounced like an endearment even though I was half-certain it was an insult.

"What does that even mean?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now part of a series because I have another OC-centric HP story up. It's not the one I'd previously referenced thinking about in notes and comments. This one sprang into my head almost fully-formed on Sunday. Still debating which tropey thing I want to incorporate (currently waffling between creature!inheritance, veela nonsense, or something of the sort). I welcome suggestions, though I don't promise to follow them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter may answer some of the questions a lot of you have had. If not, let me know!

Sirius did not explain what a ‘swot’ was, much to my annoyance. We were walking to the library, arm-in-arm, in what I would be tempted to term a ‘stroll.’ I’d called Krawly back and asked her to unpack for me before we left. I knew that I’d probably be calling on her for assistance in navigating my way back to the bedroom eventually.

“It seems like slang might be the only thing you _don’t_ know,” he said, amused by my frustration.

“What makes you say that?”

“Ward Magus? Goblin Advocate? We are headed to the _library_ , at your request. You’re clearly brilliant and politically minded.” He smiled faintly. “Alphard is as close to overjoyed as I’ve seen him in years. He’s been singing your praises to the rest of the Family since meeting you.”

I stopped short, pulling him to a halt as well, and stared at him. “Alphard? You mean your uncle? _That_ Alphard?”

“We make a habit of reusing names in this Family but, to my knowledge, he is the only living Black called such at the moment.”

Now was not the time for teasing, now was the time for _answers_. “Your Uncle Alphard…likes me?”

“He approves of you, most certainly. I do believe he likes you as well, yes.”

“Huh,” I said, mentally reviewing all of our conversations. “I never would have guessed. He’s kind of an asshole.” I immediately cringed at stating my opinion, my _negative_ opinion, on his uncle so bluntly. “I mean-“

Sirius only laughed. “Yes, he is. Most of us are, to some degree. Shall we?”

We started walking again.

“I don’t know _everything_ ,” I said after a moment, frowning, “and I wouldn’t call myself ‘politically minded.’”

“You’ve navigated the grindylow-infested water that is British law and come out no worse for wear. You clearly came here with a plan and, unless I miss my guess, you’ve executed it near to exactly how you desired,” Sirius said, a questioning lilt on that last.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about the housing loophole,” I reminded him.

He grimaced. “If it truly makes you that uncomfortable, I will only stay the remainder of the week. We’ll need at least that long for our magic to settle, and I’d rather be on hand if the Family Magics decide to _gift_ you with any more responsibilities. I _am_ sorry about the Wards, had I realized-“

“You had no way of knowing. _I_ certainly didn’t expect it.”

“Hmm…and I suppose if _you_ didn’t expect it, then it was something unknowable.”

He was teasing me again. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. “I don’t _expect_ to know everything,” I said uncomfortably. “I just…I like having a plan, and I hate surprises. ‘Prepare for the worst but hope for the best’ was my mantra the last few years.” I gave him an expectant look, “If you’ve got any understanding of your own laws, you probably know why I wanted to have a plan in place before coming _near_ you.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips into a thin line. He sighed after a moment, then admitted: “I had no idea that our laws had gotten that restrictive, to be honest. I started looking into things after that first day, when Regulus told me you were Muggleborn. I knew that there were some darker laws regarding Muggleborns passed in the latter days before the war really broke out, but I hadn’t realized how few had been repealed.”

“Your standard Contract is nothing to sneeze at, either.”

“Yes, well, I’ll honestly have an easier time of it convincing my voting bloc to work on repealing old laws than I will on getting the Family Magics to accept an alternate negotiating contract,” he said. “The default one was set down by my great-grandmother, and she was _very devoted_ to protecting the Family from any outside influences.”

“The Family Magics do have a very distinctive _flavor_ about them.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I could sense his amusement. “How would you describe the Black Magics?”

I remembered, quite viscerally, my first and second introductions to the Black Family Magics. “Possessive, protective, prideful,” I said, and it was probably my imagination, but the words seemed to echo ahead of us and down the hall.

“You really _are_ sensitive to magics,” Sirius murmured. “You’re not wrong,” he said after a moment. “Remus says the Family Magics feel like a nesting mother dragon to him, and he’s been my friend for near as long as I’ve known him. We keep what’s ours and we guard it fiercely. The Black Lordship – or Ladyship – falls to the one who represents those traits best. I expect that’s why the Family Magics were so eager to lay claim to _you_.”

Wait, what? “What do you mean?”

“You’re a Ward Magus, and while I don’t doubt for a moment that you like the work for its own sake, I’d stake galleons on you choosing that specialization because you’ve got something, or some _one_ , you want protected. Your personal magic practically _sings_ with it. Even if you weren’t my soulmate-“

There was something in the way he said those two words – _possessive, protective, prideful._

“-the moment you came near a member of the Family, the Magics would have tried to claim you.”

Alphard had alluded to this, but I hadn’t pressed. “What does that-“

“You’d have been adopted into the House.”

“Just like that?”

Sirius snorted. “You say that like you think it’s common.”

“No, Alphard said something about it being rare, I’m just trying to wrap my head around the idea of an embodiment of ancestral magic attaching itself to an _unrelated_ _stranger_ at _whim_.”

He shrugged at that. “Call it resonance, call it sympathetic magic, call it whatever you want, but the Black Magics would have recognized you as _kin_ and claimed you as such, and they’d have done it easily as you belonged to no House that could prevent them.”

_Like calls to like_ , Ted had said.

I mulled that over for a moment, wondering what that would have been like: coming for a visit and a bit of sightseeing only to find myself spontaneously adopted. “If you weren’t my soulmate, I doubt I ever would have come to Europe,” I said after a moment.

“Not a fan of travel?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Is that why it took you so long to come, then?” Sirius asked. There was, abruptly, a sense of stillness, of _anticipation_ , in the air between us. I looked up at him to find him looking down at me and I realized that the answer to this question was important, both to him and to whatever it was that might grow between us.

“Originally,” I said slowly, “I planned to come find you when I turned eighteen. That’s the age of majority in both wixen Americas. That would have been the earliest I could travel abroad, as the magical-born child of a mundane family. Then…”

“Then?”

“Have we reached the library yet?” I asked, half because I wanted to stall and half because I was genuinely curious.

Sirius smiled. “Actually, yes. We’ve been walking in circles around it for a few minutes. I didn’t want to interrupt our conversation. I expect I’ll lose you to the books as soon as I open the door.”

I wanted to be offended by that assumption, but I was self-aware enough to admit that he was right. “I promise to finish my answer after you open the doors, I’d just rather be sitting down for this conversation,” I said.

“Fair enough, here we are,” he directed me to a slightly larger door in a wood so dark it looked black.

Then he opened the door and I about swallowed my tongue.

“Oh,” I said softly, my free hand pressing to my chest because I thought I might have just _literally_ felt my heart skip a beat.

“See, I’ve lost you already.”

Even that wasn’t enough to knock me from my reverie. I didn’t feel like I could open my eyes wide enough to take it all in. The library was two stories, each wall covered in shelves, rows of shelves in between. In truth, I was only guessing that each wall was covered in shelves, because I couldn’t actually see the far walls. It looked like a maze of books. There were even more books drifting about in the air, some in linear paths, others lazily looping about. It looked like every dream, every fantasy I’d ever had of a magical library all come to life.

“If I ever earn a look from you that’s _half_ so enchanted, I’ll consider myself well-loved,” Sirius murmured.

I could feel my cheeks heating and I shot him a wide-eyed look. “It’s so-“ I gestured helplessly, unable to find the _words_. “It’s _beautiful_.”

“ _Swot_ ,” he said affectionately, taking the hand I’d rested on his arm and twining our fingers. He pressed a quick kiss to my knuckles, and then he was leading me to one side of the door where a collection of couches and tables awaited us. He gestured for me to choose our seating, which I appreciated.

Out of respect for him, I chose a seat at a table where my back would be to the majority of the library. Judging by the small smile on his face, he both recognized and appreciated the gesture. I took a deep breath, ignoring the faint hitch in my shoulders, the twitch of muscles _begging_ me to turn around and take in the glory of books behind me.

Sirius settled in the seat opposite me and immediately reached across the table to take my hand again.

To my surprise, he didn’t need to reach very far: I’d automatically started reaching out to _him_.

“Huh,” I said, staring at our hands and unable to hide my bemusement.

He cleared his throat and my eyes snapped back to his almost guiltily. “You were saying?” he prodded.

Right, the plan that later became a scheme. “I have a few friends back home, but only two I’d count as _best_ friends. One of them, Heather, has been studying law, politics, and cultural exchange since she was able to ask people to read books to her. She set her sights on being a liaison between the Americas when we were teenagers, but she’s always liked looking at how the other magical nations rule their peoples. She says it gives her a better handle on how and why some of the laws in Metzo-America developed. When I told her that my soulmate was British, she was concerned. When she learned that my British soulmate was a member of one of the Ancient and Noble Houses, she became downright _alarmed_.”

He was watching me, and that guarded look was back in his eyes. “With all that, I’m surprised you came seeking me at all.”

“She didn’t want me to,” I readily admitted. “By the time she was done explaining her reasoning, _nobody_ wanted me to.”

Which reminded me, I’d need to reach out soon or else they’d be calling in the cavalry.

“And yet…here you are,” Sirius said, and it was _almost_ a question.

“You’re my soulmate,” I said, and watched something flare in his eyes at the words. “I don’t know what that means, exactly, or why we’re soulmates in the first place, but I _wanted_ to meet you and try and figure it out. If the laws and contracts and issues with you being British, and a member of a House, hadn’t been in the way, I wouldn’t have been so-“

“Snappish? Defensive?”

“Well, yes. Can you blame me?”

“Honestly? No,” he said with a wry smile. “It’s not even a surprise, based on what I know of your magics. Very protective, as I said, and the first thing you must protect if you intend to help anyone else is _yourself_.”

Those words had my fingers flexing around his, so instead of holding his hand I was grasping at it like I was clutching a lifeline. I felt like someone had kicked the chair out from underneath me, like I was falling, like I was flying, like he’d torn through muscle and bone to lay bare the very heart of me. I was speechless, staring at him, because there had always been an ugly little voice in the back of my head, a gremlin that whispered that all my accomplishments, all my drive, all for the aim of making sure I lived to see 21 in this life, making sure I got to live a _happy_ life, that I could protect myself and the ones I loved, that I would have the power to keep them _safe_ , was rooted in _selfishness_.

Here Sirius was, turning things around, turning _me_ upside-down because he took it as a matter of course. To protect others, I would have to first protect myself. If I was not intact, how could I help anyone else? His words made what I’d seen as selfishness sound like _sense_.

“Athena?” he said, eyeing me with concern.

“I never – I hadn’t…you _understand_ ,” I whispered, and some of my inner turmoil must have shown on my face because he reached across the table for my other hand and gripped it firmly.

“Possessive, protective, prideful,” he said, echoing my words from before. “You really _are_ a perfect match for our Family,” he continued, almost laughing. There was something that wasn’t amusement in his eyes and in the set of his jaw, something that was more like that sharpness I’d seen glimpses of earlier. He smiled at me, and there was something of the resting jungle cat in it, dark and languid and satisfied. “Yes, my lady, I think you’ll find that I understand you _very_ well.”

 


End file.
